


we're kings of the killing

by OneSweetMelody



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Aged up characters, Alternative Universe - FBI, Flashbacks, Graphic Description of Corpses, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Murder, Non-Linear Narrative, Slow Burn, Suicide mention, Torture, neil's very messed up childhood, tags that are much scarier than the actual fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-09-27 09:18:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 59,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9996806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneSweetMelody/pseuds/OneSweetMelody
Summary: When Nathaniel Wesninski enters the Baltimore FBI field office, he comes out as Neil Josten and owes more than than a few favors FBI if he doesn't want to be slammed with a host of charges. With no choice but to work as an FBI agent to pay off his dues, Neil is assigned to a field office in Columbia, South Carolina. However, it only takes a few weeks for Neil's past start catching up with him and for him to start wondering if he's really all that safe in Columbia





	1. don't leave me with this monstrosity

**Millport, Arizona**

He wasn’t sure who he was. Alex had died somewhere in Oregon and he hadn’t bothered to pick a new name for himself on the long trek from Northern California to Arizona. He wasn’t sure why he picked Arizona, he spent so much time in Europe and Canada, his body wasn’t quite used to dry heat and high temperatures.

He should have picked somewhere less stifling and humid, somewhere less likely to fill his lungs with dust and choke him with its heat. Or maybe it was his subconscious craving the nearest thing to the heat of flames and heaviness of smoke. He was punishing himself for not doing enough or for doing too much and compromising their position. It’s just that every time he took a breath he could feel his lungs fill with the smoke and–

**Columbia, South Carolina**

Neil can never forget the smell of a burning body.

It’s thick and heady like tar slowly pouring down his throat and coating everything it touches with a thick film. It seeks out the crevices of his lungs and sticks, undisturbed even through heavy gasps and deep coughs. It lingers on his tongue until he’s memorized the bitter and acrid taste of burning flesh every time he takes a bite to eat.

Then the hair catches flame.

It sets his nostrils aflame and causes his eyes to water. Suddenly all the tar that accidentally slipped down into his stomach wants to make a return trip. He’s dry heaving near the rocky cliffs of the beach and he when closes eyes, he’s hit with the previously forgotten image the dancing flames.

The body in front of him now is different than the one that frequents his dreams. It’s not as burned, the fat and muscles barely having the chance to burn before the flames were stifled. Even without closer inspection, Neil knows it’s no more than a few hours old. The smell of the charred flesh is still poignant as it fills his nostrils. It’s a familiar ghost but it’s not the thing that truly churns his stomach.

Someone dressed the body up like a doll.

“Shit,” Hemmick covers his nose and mouth with a surgical mask provided by one of the police officers on the scene when they entered the closed-off perimeter. Hemmick looks away from the body under the guise of inspecting the rest of the crime scene. He’s easily queasy for someone who makes a living out of dealing with murder investigations.

It’s going on three am and the joint forces of the Columbia police department and the Columbia FBI field office swarm the scene – collecting possible evidence, preparing to bag the body, and taking dozens of photos of the area in every possible orientation. They’re in a wooded area. One of the locals was taking their dog out for a late night walk when the animal veered off the trail into the thicket. The body is laid out in the middle a clearing surrounded by a sparse smattering of trees. They’re not too far off the trail but the area isn’t well hidden. The body was meant to be easily found.

It’s not Neil’s first crime scene but it’s still overwhelming. Just over an hour ago he was preparing to go home to his tiny apartment. Walker wasn’t scheduled to come in until the morning but was called in last minute to help Hemmick since Neil’s wasn’t there in the same capacity of investigative work.

Neil grasps his flashlight firmly in one hand and crouches down to get a better look.

What remains of the body is clothed a clean pressed blue dress and smart black shoes with its hands positioned over its chest over where a small bouquet of violet flowers sit and its head covered with a long brunette wig. It looks peaceful almost, innocent though the body is thankfully too large to be that of a child. Something about the pristine clothes and polished shoes grates at Neil more than the charred flesh. It’s careful, deliberate as if the killer wanted them to find the body in this state, like a kid boasting over their clumsy drawings.

Except there’s nothing clumsy about the body. Even from a glance, Neil knows they’ll have to consult dental records and cross them with missing persons reports if they want any chance of finding out who this person was.

“I talked to the lead detective in charge of the case about a possible serial killer,” Walker appears next to Hemmick with a small frown on her face.

“Christ. I’d say it’s too early to tell, but what kind of person…chars someone alive and dresses them up again?” Hemmick winces and turns away from the body.

“I think if they dressed the victim back up again so carefully, then those might not be the victim’s clothes. He could have bought new ones.”

Hemmick shakes his head again and runs a hand through his hair. “You don’t see too many bodies burned alive. I was half hoping for another stabbing.”

“They weren’t burned alive,” Neil shifts from his crouched position next to the body. Hemmick blinks in confusion while Neil barely resists scowling at him in response.

“What makes you think that Neil?” Neil nearly bristles at Walker’s calm tone but turns back to the body anyway.

“Because if they wanted to burn them alive they would have burned the body down to the bones not just cooked it like a rotisserie chicken.” Hemmick winces at the comparison but doesn’t disagree.

“We have lacerations here, here, and here that are muscle deep,” Neil continues clinically pointing to both shoulders and the neck. “The cut along the neck is clean avoids major arteries and veins. He must have done that while she was still alive. Cuts on the upper arms as well.”

Neil holds his hand out to the agents behind him. “Pen.”

One of the other agents hands him a pen and Neil continues his assessment by lifting up the edge of the dress with the pen. “She’s wearing underwear meaning he’s either just very thorough with dressing his victims up or he’s protecting her modesty. We’ll have to check with Minyard for the likelihood of any kind of sexual assault. There’s also cuts along her inner thighs but avoiding her femoral artery, possibly tried bleeding her out before burning but he definitely made it slow. This isn’t his first kill. Too clean and too well thought out.”

“Surgical,” Hemmick adds thoughtfully.

Walker nods in understanding. “That sounds possible but we’ll check in with the coroner to get an exact cause of death.”

“I’m going to need to look it again later,” Neil says dodging an agent documenting the crime scene.

“Of course. But it’s late right now and we don’t have anything to go on yet when we don’t know why the case got flagged in the first place. I think you two should go home for the night.”

Neil bites back his opinion of the info specialist back at the field office through the words ‘impossible to work with’ echo in his head. Instead, he rises to his feet and dodges some of the investigators who need to bag the body.

Walker fixes Neil and Hemmick with a look of concern. “I just got on shift and I know you pulled a double, Nicky. And Neil is still getting used to things around here. It makes sense.”

“Aww Renee, always the sweetheart.” Hemmick’s smile peaks out from behind his mask. “If I wasn’t already spoken for I’d ask you to marry me in a heartbeat.”

“That’s very sweet of you Nicky.”

Hemmick’s expression shifts again as he considers the body again.

“It’s just sad though,” Hemmick says. “We don’t have any information about her who she was to at least let the family know what happened. And until dental records get back, we probably won’t find out for a while. The family must be worried.”

“The detectives said that they’ll look into recent missing person’s reports in the county and send them over to us. We’ll still have to do some digging on our own of neighboring counties and hope that we’ll be able to get something from dental.”

“If that’s it, I think I’ll leave,” Neil says abruptly. He hides the quake of his hands by dusting off invisible speck off his trousers as he stands. If Walker is surprised, it doesn’t show on her face.

“Of course Neil. There’s not much more for you to do right now. Thank you for your help today.” Walker gives him a small sad smile.

Neil only gives a curt nod in return before making his way away from the crime scene, maneuvering around police and feds alike until he’s far enough away that he can pretend that the smell of burnt flesh can’t touch him.

**Millport Arizona**

–it was choking him. He was suffocating but his lungs were forcing him to take gasping breaths that only filled his lungs with more smoke. More of the taste of burning flesh on his tongue. His insides were burning just as surely as the body in the trunk of the car and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

She was dead. He might not have pulled the trigger, but he was just as responsible for her death. He could have just buried the body but that would have been too easy to find, too much evidence to leave behind. Instead, he shoved her body into the trunk of the car and set it aflame before setting the rest of the car on fire. He hadn’t expected the smell.

He read somewhere as a child that the sense of smell is the strongest sense linked to memory. It figures that now his body has latched on to the smell of his mother’s burning corpse more than the feel of her blood on his hands. Or maybe he was just desensitized to blood and violence and cruelty. Even the familial kind wasn’t unfamiliar to him after years on the run. Maybe Mary had deserved a burial but there was no time for sentiments when he still had his father’s people on his trial and his mother didn’t die so he could get caught. He had to keep moving and survive but he couldn’t go on the way he had been before with Mary.

He was going to the FBI. He decided this at an old run down gas station in Nevada a few days ago. When he wasn’t sure but for now he was left with his grief and the memory of thick black smoke cradling him.

**Columbia, South Carolina**

Neil makes it back to his apartment in a daze of smoke and tar. His tie feels like a noose around his neck and his eyes sting. He feels needlessly bone weary especially considering the day hadn’t been anywhere near physically taxing yet spending any extended time Walker and Hemmick usually left him physically drained.

In Neil’s experience, they’re both too cheerful for FBI agents. While Hemmick’s easy excitability, mostly innocuous flirting, and constant invitations to hang out after work is easy to ignore, Walker’s permanent air of calmness and understanding leaves Neil uneasy. He knows better than to relax under generosity, genuine or forced, so dealing with both at the same time has him even more diligently on guard lest they try to pry him for information. He’s not there to enjoy his time, he’s there to survive.

Neil thankful that he lives alone. He needs the time and space to recuperate. His tiny, dingy efficiency has all the essentials he needs to survive – running water, mostly functioning electricity and not much else. Carving out spaces for himself has never been Neil’s specialty so it figures that the apartment has little personal effects not that there’s much room for much anyway other than a tiny dresser for his clothes and even less when he lowered his Murphy bed. When Agent Wilson and Special Agent Wymack arranged for his transfer to Columbia, they probably expected him to accept better accommodations.

Neil didn’t have many specifications when looking for the apartment in the first place, it had to be small enough that he didn’t have to put an extortionate amount on rent so that he could save most his paycheck. And most importantly, it had to have easy access to either a train station or airport just in case.

Other than those few specifications, his apartment hunt had started and ended in his current tiny efficiency.

He quickly strips and takes a shower in the cramped bathroom, ignoring his reflection in the mirror. He already knows what he’ll see – Nathan’s face only distinguished by the almost delicate scar tracing from just above his brow to his jaw and the faint circles of a dashboard lighter that got too close to his face but never did it’s intended damage. Neil grabs a frozen dinner in the confined kitchen, before pulling down the Murphy bed and falling into listless sleep.

He wakes up several hours later in a cold sweat, lungs aching as he labors for breath. This isn’t the first time he’s woken up like this and it won’t be the last. He’s come to expect the cold sweats and the waking up suddenly at the barest of noises. Swinging his legs over his bed, he moves towards the kitchen to grab a drink of water.

His internal clock tells him it’s somewhere about seven in the morning. The call to the crime scene came somewhere around one am last night and he didn’t arrive back to his apartment until about three am. Four hours of sleep doesn’t sound too bad. He can probably squeeze in a run and a shower before going to the office and checking to see if Minyard was done with the body and hope he hadn’t butchered it up too much.

He slides out of bed, straightens it up, and pops it back into place before getting ready for his run.

He changes up his route every few days out of habit. He can’t have anyone getting too familiar with his movements and tracking him, a habit of living on the run that he hasn’t had the time yet to shake off. He arrives back at his building with his lungs burning at the difficulty of his lungs. It’s the clearest they’ve felt in months. He manages it get ready with just enough time to get to the office by nine am.

Neil’s office is technically downstairs away from the main floor of the building, but he has to check in with Special Agent Wilds before he starts his shift – a condition of his agreement with the agency.

Special Agent Danielle Wilds isn’t in charge of the Columbia field office but she is the second in command after Special Agent David Wymack so more often than not he reported to her over the last three weeks. She’s the kind of agent the agency loves – firm, dedicated, and resourceful. She runs the field office with an artistic grace that’s both fierce and efficient.

She almost reminds him of his mother.

“Josten.”

“Wilds.”

“Walker told me about the night you had with the burning woman case last night, well, earlier this morning. Hemmick isn’t coming in for another few hours. You sure you’re good to go?”

“I’m fine,” Wilds raises an eyebrow in response. “I need to head down and see what Minyard found with the body and then un-fuck up whatever he did.”

If Neil had been able to hide his initial dislike for the coroner his first week at the office, his patience ran out after a stabbing incident down in Riesling during week two. He’d broken his promise to himself to stay under the radar after getting into a screaming match with Minyard.

Ideally, Neil would get unlimited access to the body at the crime scene to properly inspect it before the cleanup crew came to sweep it away to the lab. It annoys him how little time they take on scene before half a dozen people swept to cart things away and trampled over potential evidence while trying to gather other evidence. Did they realize just how much they disrupted him from being able to assess the scene? Then having a nuance like Minyard perform an autopsy instead of giving Neil some extra time with the body. Even with only a few weeks at the field office under his belt, Neil knows their procedure isn’t much different than that of other law enforcement agencies.

“He’s good at his job. One of the best around here.”

“One of. If I could get a proper look at the body before–”

“We have protocols –”

“– he gets a chance to cut it up, it might make my job easier.”

“Well, that’s bureaucracy for you. Doesn’t give a shit about making your job easier.”

Neil grits his teeth but he’s gotten better about picking his battles. Danielle Wilds could rival Neil in stubbornness.

Everything about this job was designed to drive him crazy. He briefly fantasizes about what would have happened if he intentionally failed his psych evaluation. Would he still be stuck here in the middle of the Bible belt fighting with his supervisor and the coroner over rights to a corpse? Then again, he’s not sure how he passed his evaluation in the first place.

Wilds gives him a searching look. “How are you adjusting to things here?” Neil fights the impulse to hide his face from her.

“I’m fine,” he replies. She furrows her eyebrows, determining whether to push further. She must decide it’s not worth the effort because she simply nods and returns to the paperwork on her desk.

“Grab Walker on your way out. She might need the exercise.” She curtly dismisses him.

Before he can leave, a figure blocks his path, sweeping into the office in a whirlwind of perfume and rage. Neil has only met her once before but Allison Reynolds was somewhat of a force in herself. She’s poised, sharp, and more dangerous than most of the other agents with nothing but half a dozen electronic gadgets and the entire PR office at her beck and call. As Neil has come to expect, she’s dressed immaculately – freshly pressed dress pants and blouse, designer shoes, and perfect hair. Even angry she looks like she could have stepped off the runway into Wilds’ office.

“Allison,” Wilds says pleasantly.

“Oh no, this isn’t the time for being nice. Do you know what kind of shitstorm this is?” She waves her tablet in Wilds’ face. Wilds takes the tablet and scans the screen. Her face drops.

“Yeah, so does anyone want to tell me why this ended up in this morning’s paper or why no one bothered to tell me there was a woman burned alive off the highway.” She catches Neil’s standing a few feet from her and narrows her eyes at him.

“She wasn’t burned alive,” Neil responds in a dull voice, “she was murdered then had her body burned.”

“Do you think that actually matters to people? Dead body burned. Burned alive. Same difference.” She waves a hand flippantly.

Wilds’ face is noticeably ashen. She studies the tablet again, face tightly drawn and expression pinched.

“Now,” Reynolds continues in a falsely saccharine tone, “does anyone want to give me the rundown of what the fuck actually happened so I can prep Wymack on the press storm that’s going to fall all over us in the next twenty minutes. And for the love of god, why isn’t this the local police’s problem?”

Wilds passes back the tablet. “It might be tied to some other case up near Baltimore a few years back. Badly burned body, redressed in fresh clothes. Not as staged as this one but still disturbing.”

At the mention of Baltimore, Neil’s entire body goes tense. It’s only been three weeks since he left the FBI field office in Baltimore. Three weeks in Columbia and not nearly enough distance between himself and the city he was raised in. He’s almost upset he didn’t end up in a cornfield in Iowa.

“Well, isn’t that fantastic,” Reynolds lets out a heavy sigh and drums her fingers against her hip.

“I’ll see what I can do. Next time, someone tell me when something like this happens before I get to the office.”

“Will do Allison.”

“I’m serious Dan. I haven’t even had my third coffee yet.”

“I’ll send some down to your office then.”

Reynolds seems to consider the offer for a long moment, “You’re a doll Dan,” she amends.

With that Reynolds disappears with another whirlwind of perfume and the clack of expensive heels leaving Neil mystified by the whole interaction. He gives Wilds an almost confused glance wondering if his previous dismissal was still standing. Not hearing a protest from her, he exits her office in search of Walker.

Walker is conveniently by her desk speaking to someone on the phone. When she sees him, she makes a hasty goodbye to the person on the other end of the call.

“Neil, I was expecting you,” she gives him an easy smile. “I was just checking in with Andrew about the case.”

Neil resists the slight shiver that dances on the edge of his spine. Walker has always been unsettling, to say the least. She has a calm, almost gentle air around her that seems at odds with her position. FBI agents, in Neil’s experience, were rarely kind and whatever calmness they exuded was a front to lull suspects into false security before closing the trap on their heads.

It fit that two people like Hemmick and Walker were partners. Both set off alarm bells in Neil’s mind that made him instinctively wary of their deceptively sweet personalities.

“I need to check on the body at Minyard’s.” She gives him a slight frown but nods her head in agreement.

“I’m joining you then I guess,” she says as if she doesn’t already know that she has to play chaperone for him. Neil hums in response and impatiently does a scan of the room while Walker grabs her keys and jacket.

They make their way to the employee parking garage as Walker keeps up light chatter about something Neil isn’t focused on paying more than half attention to.  His chaperone must notice his lack of interest because they spend the rest of ride to the coroner’s office in silence.

Aaron Minyard is a sorry sack of shit and nothing can convince Neil otherwise.

Neil stares down at the body poised on the slab. The clothing has been cut way but the body is modestly covered with a sheet. Neil makes a move to lift the sheet ignoring the feel of Minyard’s disapproval boring into his back.

The body isn’t as bad as it could have been. Most of the injuries are still intact, merely cleaned up. Perhaps Minyard did listen to his previous complaints not to perform the full autopsy before Neil had the chance to do a secondary assessment of the body.

“What did you find?”

“Nothing because I had to wait for your dumb ass to satisfy your fucking necrophilia before doing my job.”

Neil nearly jumps at the sudden accusation.

Nathan’s early lessons on how to break apart both mentally and physically had become the core of his secondary curriculum. His life on the run hadn’t been exactly clear of blood and death either. He did what he had to do to survive but it was far from Nathan’s sadistic tendencies. He doesn’t get any satisfaction or pleasure from the act of killing or death itself but it’s something he’s come to accept with little concern or thought to leave him cold and hollow as if wearing a cloak of death most of his life made him devoid of any feelings towards it. Except that wasn’t entirely true anymore he thinks remembering the smell of Mary’s burning body.

Neil holds out a hand, “the file from the autopsy you didn’t do.” It’s less of a request than a demand. Minyard passes him the file with a sharp huff. Neil decidedly goes back to ignoring him while he examines the file.

It’s nothing far from his expectations. The body was likely burned immediately after death, no apparent signs of sexual assault, and no accelerants seemed to have been used, etc. Neil frowns at the last note – female aged 21-45. Helpful.

He gives the body another cursory glance before peeling back the sheet entirely. He does a quick check for additional lacerations from Minyard’s examination. He frowns again and turns back to Minyard.

“We need to narrow down the age range,” he says.

“Considering I couldn’t do a full examination, Josten, that’s the best I can do for you. I could do some bone remodeling but that’s not going to help much since the range isn’t that wide, to begin with. She’s not old enough or young enough for it to make a huge difference. And since she doesn’t have much of a face left…” He leaves the sentence hanging.

Neil nods absently in understanding, “I still need a narrower age range.” He almost misses Minyard’s grumbled reply but decides it’s not worth his attention.

“How is dental coming along?” Walker speaks up for the first time.

“Still working on it. Have you started on the missing person’s reports?” His answer is tentative as if he’s forgotten Walker was in the room as well.

“Yes, we cast a similar age range but we haven’t gotten too many hits in the area. We might have to expand our range. Dental records should help.”

Minyard hums and moves towards the body again. He stands opposite Neil who is still looking at the body in consideration.

“If you’re done,” Minyard begins in a flat voice, his face twisting back into its characteristic sneer, “I have a few more to go through.”

Neil meets his gaze and the two stare each other down for a brief moment before Walker politely clears her throat.

“Neil, we should get back to the office,” she says gently from somewhere over his shoulder.

With one final glance at the body on the slab, Neil follows Walker out of the morgue.

The ride back to the office is relatively peaceful. Unlike the trip to the morgue, Walker puts on a station with slow lulling music at a low volume and doesn’t attempt to converse. Neil stares absently out of the window as the scenery flashes by.

“Neil? Neil, are you okay?”

Neil snaps back to alertness. He’s seated at his small corner desk staring vacantly at his blank screen. Hemmick stands behind him with a concerned expression on his face. Neil rubs a hand over his face hoping to wipe away some of the grogginess that’s begun to cling to him over the last several days since the burned body appeared in Congaree National Park. He hasn’t been sleeping properly, getting home and collapsing in bed only to be met with either restless sleep or vivid nightmares. His early rising was only met with longer morning runs. He still varies his routes, learning more and more of the sleepy city each day but it often leads him to come to the office even more bone tired.

He’s trained his body to run on little sleep and paranoia but the case was taking a greater toll on him than he anticipated. Luckily, with the case at a bit of a halt with no positive identification for the victim, Neil was stuck in archives looking through old crime scene photos and helping some of the other agents on cases.

“I’m fine,” Neil lies.

“That’s great,” Hemmick says with false cheer. “I was wondering if you wanted to sit in on the interview with the stabby guy.”

“Stabby guy,” Neil parrots back.

Hemmick is practically bouncing on his toes in excitement. “Yeah, the guy who’s been stabbing truckers up and down the twenty? We have a suspect.”

The knifing case is the other major case Hemmick and Walker and sequentially Neil have been following over the last two weeks – truckers found pulled over the side of I-20 stabbed to death. The case went through too many counties in both Georgia and South Carolina for local forces to coordinate effectively so the FBI was called in to manage both local and state forces on the case.

“It’s your first big case, I thought you’d like to peep in on the interview.”

“Doesn’t he have a lawyer with him?” Neil aims for dismissive but Hemmick’s face only grows brighter.

“Exactly!! Come on Neil, it’s a good learning experience.”

Neil’s skin crawls with discomfort. The last time he was anywhere near an FBI interrogation room, he was sitting with a folder detailing his entire future laid out before him. Everything in Neil screams out in protest. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near the interview room even if it’s on the other side of the mirror. But Hemmick is looking at him eagerly waiting for a positive response.

Neil’s been in Columbia for a month and has otherwise managed to avoid the interview room. He has no desire to be anywhere near it. Despite being a forensic specialist, he’s still expected to go through the whole range of investigative work. While Hemmick and Walker are partners, Neil was saddled alongside them like a child needing overseeing, which meant the two of them did their best to teach him the ropes and more annoyingly tried to involve him in things going on outside the office.

“Sure.”

If Hemmick picks up on his hesitation, which he likely does, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he chatters about the specifics of the case as if Neil wasn’t part of the active investigation himself. It’s easy to feign interest for the time it takes Hemmick to lead him to the small room on the other side of the interview room.

“Wish me luck!”

With that, Hemmick gives a broad wave and disappears. Neil lets out sigh of relief, exhausted by the brief interaction with the other agent. He could only handle Hemmick in small doses and even the trip across the office seemed like an eternity. Neil rolls his shoulders to relieve some of the tension situated there. He could probably get away with going back to his desk but chances were in favor of Hemmick pushing him for his opinion on the interrogation. Neil can already feel the slight quake in his hands at the prospect of having to sit through any more interrogations regardless of which side he was sitting on.

Neil stares down the handle to the room weighing his options. It really wasn’t worth it. He could lie to Hemmick and say that he had to leave early to finish some paperwork. It probably wouldn’t be that productive anyway with the suspect’s lawyer in the room as well.

Neil had never bothered with a lawyer.

He can feel his chest tighten and the door handle dance in his vision. He doesn't want to go inside. He can't go inside. The fear grips him so suddenly it nearly knocks the breath out of him. His entire body tenses as the panic from earlier worms its way back into his body. He tries to even out his breathing, using some of the techniques his mother talked him though when he was younger and couldn't get his hands to stop shaking at the hilt of a knife. It's not the same, it's nowhere near the other terrors Neil has faced in his life. Then why was he frozen in the middle of the hallway unable to force his body to move? He can feel himself teetering on the edge unable to do more than focus on his breath and the firmness of the handle in his hand.

“Well, if you’re going to stand there all day, some of us have places to be,” a gruff voice calls out from behind him. Neil jumps slightly at the sound, before slowly turning around.

“Wymack,” he says dully looking at the older man.

David Wymack raises a single eyebrow at him motioning to the door. “If you plan on going in anytime soon.”

Neil quickly glances behind Wymack looking for the familiar shadow that seemed to follow the man wherever he went. As if sensing Neil’s hesitation, the older man sighs.

“He’s not here. But if you want to go in anytime soon.”

Neil blinks at the realization that he’s still standing in front of the door with one hand firmly gripping. He swallows, licking his lips and giving the door on last furtive glance as if hoping it would magically disappear.

With a deep breath, he opens the door.

**Baltimore, Maryland**

Nathaniel spent the last six years of his twenty-five years in various safe houses. Of them, this one was one of the nicest he has been in. There are at least two agents in the house with him at all times taking shifts to keep an eye out for his father’s men and to, more importantly, make sure he doesn’t run.

But while every muscle in his body jumped at every opening to get away, Nathaniel didn’t feel like running. He felt old, tired to his bones and world-weary. He knew what the therapist at the field office said when they saw him despite the fact that Neil outright refused to speak to the middle-aged man.

Agent Giles’ gave Nathaniel a piercing look as he made his way to the bathroom. Nathaniel knew the agents were waiting for him to snap and make a quick escape having read his file. No doubt Agent Giles was stationed outside the bathroom concentrating on listening to make sure Nathaniel didn’t try to sneak out through the tiny window above the sink.

It wasn’t anything new. They watched him with wary eyes and tracked his every twitch and shift in position. But if he ran there was going to be one more group of people with too much money and resources out there looking for him. So instead he made due with planning escape routes and finding holes in his security detail even if he didn’t carry them out.

It was almost a surprise that after days in that too nice safe house that Agent Browning called him down to the Baltimore field office.

Nathaniel expected interview rooms to look different. He hadn’t seen too many police procedurals but he knew that the room seemed to come directly out of an episode of SUV or whatever it was called – three grey walls, a one-way mirror, a small bolted table in the center with built-in rings for handcuffs, and a security camera mounted on the wall ahead of him.

Out of sheer luck, Nathaniel was still dressed in borrowed street clothes and not chained to the bolted table, though based on Agent Browning’s expression, the decision did not meet his approval. It was nothing but a powerplay hauling Neil from his “safe” house to the bureau office for a conversation they’ve had half a dozen times already.

“We need you to testify.”

“And I told you already, that’s not happening. Unless you have trouble hearing and need me to say again it for the hundredth time.”

“Nathaniel.”

Nathaniel spoke slowly. “I already gave you everything on my father. There’s no reason to keep hassling me to testify. I told you who his people are. Now you and your people have to go find them. My job is done.”

“I’m not sure you understand the charges we could nail you with. Aiding and abetting, fraud, identity theft, conspiracy to commit a felony, possibly multiple accounts of attempted murder, and that’s just in the US. Not to mention what you did to your mother –”

Nathaniel flinched back instinctively at the mention of his mother, “I wouldn’t have had to bury her…” He trails off suddenly.

“Maybe if you stopped pretending to be above the law, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“I’m not testifying.”

Nathaniel knew how fucked his situation was right now. Even with the Butcher in federal prison awaiting trial, his men were still out on the hunt for Nathaniel or eagerly awaiting the return of the prodigal son to take over his father’s mantle as the Butcher of Baltimore. But whatever part of Nathaniel Wesninski was still alive died on a beach in Del Norte County, California just as Mary Hatford did as her body went up in flames.

Agent Wilson spoke up from the corner by the mirror opposite the camera, “We’re sorry about your mother and wish we could go back to change how things turned out. But for now, we’re pretty limited in what we can do to help you.” He gave Agent Browning a stern look which the other FBI agent returned with a terse frown before turning back to Nathaniel.

“Look here kid, we’re giving you some decent options alright. Far too generous if you ask me. But regardless of what you pick, you’re going to be under the FBI’s watch whether you like it or not. It’s up to you to decide if you want to do it with a badge or in a cell.”

Browning let the statement hang in the air like a trump card. Nathaniel fixed his expression into something as neutral as possible but it wasn’t enough to wipe the smirk off Browning’s face.

And now he was stuck deciding between prison on racked up charges or assisting the FBI in exchange for protection from his father’s remaining men. He couldn’t keep stalling for time or trying to find a stealthy way to reach Uncle Stuart. He’d clearly run out of time. The room hangs in suspended silence and Nathaniel weighs the few options he has.

“What would I get out of it?” Agent Browning raised a single eyebrow at him, prompting him to continue. “What would I get out of helping you?”

“By testifying?”

“No…the other option.”

Browning gave Nathaniel a blank look. “What makes you think that offer is still on the table?”

“He means, how do we know you’ll be willing to actually help us?” Agent Wilson cut in.

Nathaniel thought. He thought of his mother and what she would say to him signing away his life, how she didn’t drag him away from his father and the Moriyama’s for the sake of him giving over his life to someone else anyway. He thought of those lonely few months in Arizona where he swatted in an old creaky foreclosure as he grieved alone. He thought of all the years struggling and doing anything it took to survive. What would it take to survive this? What were his options?

But Nathaniel was almost completely trapped. He had to do what his mother taught him best, adapt and survive.

Nathaniel made steady eye contact with Agent Browning. “Why do you want my help anyway.”

Agent Wilson’s approach was different than Agent Browning, less outwardly aggressive which Nathaniel couldn’t say he liked any better. “You have a very, uh, unique skill set. Not many of our forensics experts have the hands-on experience you have with the human body.”

“You mean they haven’t been taught how to torture people or hide bodies since they could walk.”

“No, no they weren’t.”

Nathaniel didn’t need the reminder that his childhood was more than a little fucked up. But that was mostly par for the course when the FBI couldn’t differential the crimes of his father the mob boss and that of an actual serial killer. Nathan Wesninski was sadistic either way. Nathaniel could still remember the first time his father put a knife in his hands and taught him how to carve into flesh. All the times his father sat him down with an anatomy book and a live human subject to demonstrate just how deep and how carefully you could cut someone without killing them or just how to twist the knife at the end to end it all.

But he wasn’t his father’s son. He’d spent years on the run making sure he wouldn’t be the newest Butcher. And he wasn’t sure if he was ready to commit to a life of looking at corpses and imagining all the different ways they ended up as mangled as they did. But what other choice did he have?

“I’ll do it. I’ll work for you. Under one condition.” He chose his next words carefully. “I can’t do it like this, I can’t be…I can’t be Nathaniel Wesninski. My father’s men are out there and I need some kind of insurance that they won’t be able to just look up that name and find me in the middle of Iowa.”

Wilson glanced at Browning briefly before nodding, “I think we can arrange something to keep you safe.”

Nathaniel pulls absently at a tuff of dyed black hair wondering how long that could be true. Nathan’s people were relentless and with him in jail, they were likely itching for retribution in the easiest form they could find it – carving up his rat of a son. It wouldn’t be any easier if he testified, it was better to do the best he could to disappear and the last thing he needed was the feds even more enthusiastic about finding him than they were when rumors surfaced about the Butcher’s son and wife still being alive.

He was out of options, out of clear escape plans. He came to the FBI in a state of grief and panic but it was the only way to trap down Nathan once and for all even if he couldn’t be the one to put a knife through him himself.

Nathaniel looked down at the file before him, a new life and a new future laid out before him. How long would he last before the urge to run hit him? Before Lola or Jackson Malcolm decided to find him.

He was out of options.

“Okay,” he says finally. “I’ll do it.”


	2. built a kingdom of your throes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil runs into some people he's been avoiding and finally some progress on the case. Vancouver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the response to this fic so far. I'm very excited to share this with you. Find me on tumblr @thepalmtoptiger

**Vancouver, Canada**

The air was brisk. Alex resisted the urge to pull his coat closer to his body. He was supposed to be accustomed to the cold weather after spending so many years in colder climates but the first brush of winter always caught him off guard. Still, moving boxes from his mother’s old beat up suburban and up several flights of stairs in a drafty apartment building was more how he pictured his first few days in Vancouver to be like.

He was helping his mother, Eileen, move from Edmonton to Vancouver after a messy separation. He recently graduated from university in Toronto after finishing his degree in German literature and was waiting to hear back from grad school, conveniently, in Seattle. It’s part of what influenced the change in location.

Alex recited this to himself as he dragged the body from the trunk of the car to the water’s edge. The plastic wrap covering the body scraped against the gravel almost driving Alex to madness hoping it didn’t cause a tear in the wrap. Eileen shut the trunk of the car and made her way to Alex.

“This should be going faster,” she said in a low voice, “we don’t have much time.”

Alex shot her the approximation of a glare. The body in the wrap had a good six inches in height on him and outweighed him by at least sixty pounds. It wasn’t necessarily easy to move. Alex tried to hurry his pace. It was like moving boxes – methodic, tedious, habit. They moved boxes and bodies often enough that he should be accustomed to the slow burn in his leg muscles and to Eileen being of little to no help.

Eileen bent down, grabbing the other end of the plastic sheet and steadily following her son down the gravel bank. It was slow progress but they made it to the edge of the water without incident.

“We have to leave after this,” Alex said quietly after they’d finished dumping the body.

“You sound surprised,” Eileen tapped the top of her pack of cigarettes against the palm of her hand. She took one out and pressed it to her lips without lighting it. They still had to dump the car as well and couldn’t afford to leave more evidence behind.

“Don’t tell me you were getting comfortable here,” Eileen’s voice was calm but there was an underlying current of hostility. “You’re getting sloppy.”

Alex knew better than to argue. It’s not worth the fuss when he knows that they should focus on getting out of Vancouver as soon as possible. A payment had been made to the sleazy landlord and a note to the overly invested lady next door about how his father made a grand apology which sent his mother right back to his arms had been written. Or something along those lines. Alex had been too busy preparing supplies to get rid of the body. Either way, they had to get out fast. Eventually, someone would notice that Nathan’s man was down and whatever lead on Alex and Eileen was close to disappearing again.

**Columbia, South Carolina**

The viewing room is quiet and tense. Neil can’t pick out whatever Hemmick is saying on the other side of the glass. Instead, he’s hyperaware of the sizeable distance between himself and Wymack. Despite the space, it feels as if they’re pressed against each other in the small space. Neil clenches his hands into tight fists as he fights the instinct to move away.

Wymack is a large man – towering over Neil, broad-shouldered with thickly coiled muscles borne of physical labor not daily trips to the gym. His suit isn’t pristine and starched straight like you’d expect the man in charge of an entire FBI field office. He’s dressed more casually a relaxed almost lazy way about him.

Neil shifts his weight away from him.

“You know we had to fight the Atlanta field office for this case? I don’t know why they wanted it so badly.” Wymack’s tone is easy and conversational.

“Don’t they have a bigger organized and violent crime division?” If the Atlanta office was larger and had more resources, it didn’t make sense to fight over a case with them. As far as Neil is concerned, it was a waste of time when they could be focused on their own caseload. “Why not give it to them?”

“It was in our jurisdiction. Plus, I didn’t feel like listening to Nicky complain about losing another interesting case to them.” Neil chances a glance at Hemmick on the other side of the glass. Even though his back is to them, Neil can see the relaxed set of his shoulder, clearly feeling at home in the interview room.

It was something that bugged Neil from his first meeting with the other agent. Walker had an air of calmness and kindness about her, but there was a clear undercurrent of something harder, darker that she tried to smother behind easy smiles. Hemmick, despite his excitement and enthusiasm for the job, didn’t seem like the type of person you’d expect to work for the FBI especially the organized and violent crimes division. It confused Neil. And anyone he couldn’t figure out after a few minutes of interaction made him uneasy.

“Speaking of interesting cases,” Wymack causally interrupts “how’s the burned woman case going?”

“It’s not going,” Neil frowns, not quite able to hide the disappointment and frustration in his voice. The case was going nowhere fast. It didn’t help that Walker and Hemmick were focused on closing the highway stabbing case, but there were few leads to follow with the burned case. Minyard managed to narrow down the age range of the victim to the late 30s to late 40s, but there were no matches to missing women in the tri-state area. The case had come to a complete standstill. “We still haven’t identified the victim. Walker has local police asking around the red light to see if anyone has gone missing.”

“Have you talked to Minyard?”

“I saw him last week and he couldn’t give me anything else that was useful for the body.”

“Not him, the other one.”

The word echoes dimly in his ears. The other Minyard. The one, despite never having met face to face, Neil was set on avoiding at any cost. “I haven’t been down to see him.” He says stiffly.

“Has anyone thought to see him?” Wymack scoffs shaking his head.

“It’s been kind of busy lately and I’m stuck on desk duty. And Walker and Hemmick have been focused on closing this case.” The statement hangs in the air. Wymack heaves a heavy sigh and rakes a hand through his hair.

“Well kid looks like it’s your time to take some initiative,” Wymack says. He spares a glance at Neil. Whatever he sees makes the corners of his lips turn down in a frown. “Don’t tell me you’ve heard the rumors and you’re scared to see him.”

“I work forensics. I’m not a field agent so it’s not my job.” It wasn’t necessarily true. Despite working down in the forensics lab, Neil’s primary job and specialty was out in the field. He was good with breaking down crime scenes and finding details other detectives and field agents might miss. It helped that he’d spent his formative years under the tutelage of one of the most notorious and proficient crime bosses and killers on the Eastern seaboard and the better part of the last decade running away from him. The only thing separating him from other field agents was the lack of an agency issued gun.

“Well around here we multitask,” the response isn’t snippy but Neil can still feel the bite in the older man’s words. “If you can’t tell, we’re a bit understaffed.” Wymack stares him down as if expecting Neil to fight back. But as most things have gone the last few years, Neil was backed into a corner.

The rumors surrounding Andrew Minyard were various and varied. Neil had gotten the full scope of most of the more colorful of them from Allison Reynolds herself his first week on the job.

“I hear he’s killed a man,” Reynolds had said casually leaning on Neil’s new desk.

“This is the FBI. Everyone has killed a man,” he’d replied attempting to log into his computer.

Reynolds shifted herself onto his desk. “Not necessarily true. Well, I heard rumors that I’ve killed a man. With a stiletto. As if I’d do that to a perfectly good shoe.”

Neil nodded along, still struggling with his login credentials.

“So you’re not worried about Minyard at all?” She leaned closer to him. “I mean a guy like that, with all that unlimited access? I wonder what kinds of things he could dig up about someone. I mean the info specialists in general but Minyard has less…moral boundaries than everyone else there.”

Neil felt a chill run through his body. As far as he knew, the better part of his file was 'need to know only', meaning even Wymack and Wilds had limited aspects to the more colorful parts of Neil’s past.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it Neil,” she pressed a well-manicured hand on his shoulder and hopped off his desk. “A nice guy like you probably doesn’t have too many secrets.” A gentle chiding from Walker had been enough to send Reynolds back to her office, but she’d already gotten the reaction she was looking for.

Neil’s breath catches in his throat at the memory.

There are few constants in all the pockets of information he’s managed to gather about him, nearly everything else falling away to simple rumor and speculation. Andrew Minyard is an analyst at the Columbia branch and apparently a loose cannon. Minyard wasn’t a common last name so it wasn’t difficult to piece together that he was somehow related to Aaron Minyard.

Neil isn’t avoiding him, but he has artfully managed to skirt all opportunities to speak to the other man. It wasn’t necessarily difficult seeing as Minyard spent most of his time in his own wing of the office away from the organized and violent crimes unit. But now Wymack is requesting that Neil see him directly.

Neil bites back the bile that rises from his stomach.

“Isn’t Walker friends with him? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind–”

“I’m not asking Walker, I’m asking you.”

His voice is hard, commanding. It takes Neil every ounce of his willpower not to flinch at his tone. Wymack sighs again and softens his tone.

“Look, you gotta work with me here,” he starts, “I know your file is…complicated. Most of it is blocked so don’t know your story. I don’t need to know and you don’t need to trust me. But what I do need is to trust you to do your job. Got it?”

Neil nods his head, “got it.”

Wymack gives him another searching look. He must like what he sees because his nods back before turning away.

“I’d get a hurry on seeing him. He’s stingy with his information.”

On the other side of the mirror, Hemmick is still conducting his interview.

* * *

Neil pours over the crime scene photos from the burning case. It’s all useless. Various angles of the same scene and illuminated shots of so-called evidence which amounted to almost nothing. It was a waste of time, it would be easier to wait for the next body to appear or to find out why the case was pinged directly to the FBI rather than local forces. But it was just over a week since the crime itself without any new leads and both Walker and Hemmick were sticking to their orders to let Neil deal with Minyard even, it seems, at the risk of delaying the investigation.

Fucking bureaucracy.

A thick folder suddenly lands on his desk directly on top of the crime scene photos Neil was busy studying. Neil’s head immediately jerks up to look for the source of the intrusion. He’s met with a familiar short blonde man with cold hazel eyes. Aaron Minyard is staring directly down at him with a loopy grin on his face. Neil frowns at the foreign expression on his face. Minyard was all cold disapproving looks, frustrated pulls of his eyebrows, and barely hidden contempt. The man in front of him shares his features, but the almost manic grin is at odds with the same cold judgmental eyes that Neil had gotten used to over the past several weeks. Minyard raises a single eyebrow at Neil as if waiting for a response.

“It took you long enough to get this done,” Neil says briskly turning away from the other man to hide his obvious discomfort. He brushes the folder to the corner of his desk and turns back to the crime scene photos before him.

“Ah Neil, so ungrateful,” Minyard ignores the easy dismissal. He drags Neil’s name out unpleasantly like a sour note however his tone is cheerful and light. There’s something about it that tugs at Neil. Neil can feel the piercing gaze directed at him.

“I don’t know what I have to be grateful about. You should have gotten this to me days ago.”

“You wound me. Have you been spending time with Kevin?” He throws the question out there as if it’s supposed to mean something to Neil but Neil recognizes the goading for what it is. Minyard’s fingers thrum on the edge of Neil’s desk. Neil ignores him.

“You do know who I am, don’t you?” There it is again, the light tone that sets Neil on edge. Neil carefully flips to the next photo.

“You’re Andrew Minyard,” Neil confirms.

“No one mentioned it to you did they?”

“I don’t pay attention to rumors,” Neil snaps.

“Hmmm, unfortunate. Sometimes your survival might depend on a rumor. You would know that wouldn’t you.” The thrumming against Neil’s desk gets louder. “But still, identical twins. You don’t see that too often. I didn’t expect something like that to get you this shaken.”

Neil looks up for the first time since Andrew Minyard appeared at his desk. The longer he looks, the more he can pick out the tiniest differences in their features. The most notable is the smile. Minyard’s grin stretches across his face. It’s something manic, unnaturally twisting his features and Neil’s stomach. His eyes aren’t as cold as Neil initially assumed. There’s some glassy quality to them that jars Neil more than the out of place smile.

“Do you have anything useful to do? Or are you planning on standing there all day?”

“I thought we were having a nice chat between coworkers,” Minyard glances at the crime scene photos and grabs the top photo to inspect it. It’s a shot of the victim’s face distorted by the charred melted flesh. It’s ingrained in his mind.

Minyard lets out a low whistle at the photo. “Huh, I always thought burned bodies just end up looking like bones. Looks like split-roasted chicken. Must make your job easier”

He tosses the photo back onto the pile. Neil follows the motion and his eyes catch on the folder Minyard brought with him. It’s thick. Absurdly so. Most of the Bureau’s files had been digitalized over the last few years. Most of the crime scene photos and reports Neil had comped over the last few days had been on the server. The only reason he’d hunted down the physical copies of the burn victim case was that he’d grown tired of straining his eyes and needed a new perspective.

“Wait,” Neil’s eyes catch on the corner of the folder Minyard had brought to him, “couldn’t you just have sent this through the server?”

“What fun would that be?” Out of thin air, another young man appears from behind Minyard. He’s carrying a file box and alternating hesitant glances at Minyard and pitying looks at Neil. Minyard motions for the man to place the file box on top of Neil’s desk. “Have fun looking through that.”

He can’t be serious. Except he is judging by the large Cheshire cat grin on his face. Neil tentatively touches the box to make sure it’s not something lifted directly from his nightmares. He can’t hold back look of shock and horror on his face.

“Don’t look so surprised Neil,” Andrew taunts in a lilting tone, “you’ve heard the rumors haven’t you.”

Minyard and his accomplice leave without another word. As they disappear, Neil can feel the weight of the entire department’s eyes trained on him. He’s been trained to respond quickly to threats but nothing could quite prepare him for that moment. He’s dealt with people far more threatening than Andrew Minyard, people who wanted him dead not to engage him in petty office squabbles.

But something about the whole interaction has him on edge. It’s the manic grin, the glassy vacant eyes, the easy edge of cruelty disguised by a light tone. Neil had met men like Andrew Minyard. He’d spent his life avoiding men like Andrew Minyard. And yet he was wondering just how deep the other man had managed to dig into his file.

Neil knows that the other agents already wondered why he was so quick to avoid everyone after hours, having rejected every single request to join them for drinks after work. He should have agreed to one of Hemmick’s well-aimed pleas weeks ago just to settle the curiosity but the paranoia of spending his days around people trained to spot lies and deception made him overly wary and cautious and it was taking a toll on his ability to blend in. How easy it would be to tip that over the edge, to frame Neil’s image around something other than the reserved yet high strung attitude that he’d woven, accidentally or not. All it would take would be one well-aimed rumor. One that had no doubt started the second Andrew Minyard emerged from his office cave and took an unprecedented interest in Neil.

Just one rumor could bring everything tumbling down.

* * *

Neil leaves the office later than usual but he still barely manages to make a dent in the case files and paperwork Minyard left him with. He almost forgets the original file Minyard dropped on his desk in his rush to leave, but at the last second, he decides to take it with him.

He manages to catch the next train to the neighborhood near his apartment complex without waiting at the station for too long. It’s a small reprieve from the stressful day he’s had so far. The earlier talk with Wymack in the viewing room before lunch seems almost like a distant memory. Stingy with his information seemed like a light way to put what Minyard had done.

Clearly, there was a reason the case had been pinged to the FBI. Most violent cases got to them one way or another, but usually, that was after a preliminary investigation by local forces. With this case, it had been almost immediate. There was something they were missing that apparently Minyard knew and didn’t see fit to share with anyone else.

Neil doesn’t understand how Wymack is letting him get away with it.

Or maybe Minyard doesn’t know exactly why and he just shoved all this paperwork on Neil to get out of doing his job. Neil doesn’t have much time to contemplate it, there’s only so much hot water.

Dinner is microwavable, quick. Usually, non-perishables were more ideal but Neil had decided to treat himself the last time he visited the corner market. He doesn’t have much in the way of furniture, even if he had a larger apartment, it wouldn’t make much of difference. He has space for a small dining table but little need for it himself. Instead, he usually eats in the middle of the floor where his Murphy bed would be. Neil takes a bite of unevenly heated macaroni and cheese before opening the case file.

It’s fairly standard, not much different than the case files he studied at the Academy and from his stay in the Baltimore field office.

In Baltimore, about ten years back there were a string of murders. Women between the ages of thirty-five to fifty were found dead, bodies in varying stages of being burned and dumped in parks. The first few bodies were found badly burned and naked. The next batch still badly burned and redressed in the victim’s clothing. However, the last batch of bodies was the most interesting. They were found less burned than the previous bodies and dressed in fresh clothing that did not belong to the victims. It was only then that the investigators noticed the deep lacerations all over the victim’s bodies.

The cases spanned almost two years before stopping suddenly. Neither the FBI or local law enforcement were able to nail down a perpetrator.

Neil bites into his last mouthful of cold macaroni. It wasn’t a similar case, it was the same exact case. Neil flips through the file again finding what he’s looking for, a summary of all the statements made by the police and FBI regarding the case. It takes him a few reads but one detail sticks out. None of the later reports to the public mentioned anything about the deep wound inflicted on the victims before their bodies were burned. Neil has to look through the more detailed individual reports back at the office but he’s sure he’ll find the same pattern. Before the individual case files swarmed in his head, but the primary report has made everything clearer.

He should probably try to get to sleep soon. It’s likely going to be another difficult night so maybe he can squeeze a late night run on the chance that he can exhaust himself enough that sleep can follow easily. He pushes aside the empty container and turns back to the first page of the report. He idly scans the page for what seems like the millionth time, still sifting through the various details of the case, when his eyes catch on something new.

He stares unseeingly at the name at the top of the report. His blood runs cold.

**Outside of Vancouver, Canada**

“We’re going to Seattle.”

He looked up from the map laid out on the dashboard at his mother. They were quickly approaching border control and the news of their trip into the large city was entirely new to him. “We’re doing what?”

“You heard me, Abram. We’re going to Seattle.”

“We were planning on going to Seattle before,” he met her steely look with one of his own. “I thought our plans would change.”

“Why would they?” Her voice had a hard edge to it, one that years ago, he would have never even dreamed to challenge. While he was still one to avoid unnecessary conflict, the situation was different.

“Our plans were to go into Seattle before our visitor. It doesn’t seem like a safe option anymore.”

She caught onto the clipped edges of his voice, her own hands tightening on the steering wheel. They inched closer to the border checkpoint. “Our plans are the same, Seattle to Portland then down the coast.”

“I’m not going to follow you on a death trip.”

“Excuse me?” He could see the tendons in her forearms as her grip on the steering wheel tightened even more. He wondered idly if she could pry into from the dashboard by sheer force of will if she wanted to. The car was old enough.

“He’s in Seattle,” he matched his tone, his father’s. It’s been years but he could still channel the other man’s anger, not so different from his own. If he saw his mother’s slight flinch, he ignored it. “You’re not the only one who has contacts.”

She let out a sharp low laugh. “Looks like Junior has finally grown up.”

It was a low blow but so was his. He glanced down at his hands half expecting to find the blood of their assailant from earlier staining them. It was barely two hours ago, but they were already on the move, fleeing from a city that only hours ago seemed like it would be able to hold them the better part of the next year.

“I trust you, but I don’t trust this decision,” he said grimly.

“Oh Junior, that’s always been your biggest flaw,” she pressed down on the gas and eased the car further in line. “You’ve always been too trusting.”


	3. and you're fresh out of luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil's luck runs out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if this should be added to the tags but is likely going to end up there anyway, but warnings for Neil's family. It's a slow chapter but things should start picking up soon.
> 
> I forgot to mention the inspiration for the title and individual chapter titles.  
> Fic: Monster by Ruelle  
> Chapter 1: Where Are You by Airling  
> Chapter 2: Stillness in Woe by Purity Ring  
> Chapter 3: Fears by MTNS

**Baltimore, Maryland**

Nate wiped his hands on his khaki shorts. He didn’t know his hands could sweat that much but no matter how many times he wrung them out or wiped them on his shorts, they still seemed sweaty. Nervously shifting from foot to foot, he stared at the oak doors before of him.

He’d never been in his father’s office before.

His father’s office was a dangerous and foreboding place. Nate had seen slivers of the inside a few times when some of his father’s employees had meetings with him. Some of them looked scary, large and broad-shouldered like his father, but sometimes Tyler or Jackson would give him a smile or ruffle his hair when they saw him around. The ladies were nicer sometimes but they also usually passed through without paying him any attention.

Miss Lola was the only one of his father’s employees other than Miss Kat who cleaned the house and Mr. Kennedy who drove the car that Nathaniel saw every day.

And now he’d made papa mad like momma said not to do and he was in trouble. He missed when papa wasn’t so busy with work and the two of them would run around outside or Papa would try to teach him how to cook while momma laughed at the two of them. It was nice but now they didn’t have as much time together and Nate missed playing with the two of them together. Miss Lola was nice but it wasn’t the same.

Nate looked back up at the wide oak doors and wiped his hands on his pants again. Swallowing, he gave a small rap on the door and turned the handle.

The room might have been grand and ornate. It might have been decorated with fine sculptures and sturdy bookcases lining the walls. The rugs could have been intricately woven with delicate designs and fine wool. It could have screamed of the same wealth and power as the rest of the house but Nathaniel couldn’t take any of it in because eyes were focused on the large powerful looking man sitting on the edge of the desk.

“Junior, good to see you.”

“Yes sir,” Nate stayed glued to his spot by the door. His father motioned for him to come closer. Nate took his time crossing the room doing his best not to drag his feet on the carpet or let his father know about the sting of tears in his eyes. Once he made it to the older man, his father picked him up and sat him down on the wooden table beside him.

Silence hung in the air. Nate stared down at the ground instead of at his father and fisted the fabric of his shorts in his hands. They were still sweating. It took a few moments but he slowly turned his head towards the older man knowing that he wouldn’t speak until he had Nate’s full attention.

“Do you know why you’re here Junior?” Nate shook his head no. His father clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Don’t lie to your papa.”

“Because Miss Lola,” Nate said softly.

“Are you sure it was Miss Lola’s fault?”

Miss Lola was his tutor. Nate went to a nice private school nearby but Miss Lola was a special tutor papa picked out for him. Momma didn’t like her, but every day Miss Lola would pick him up from school and teach him things like fighting and throwing knives and playing dart guns. It was fun but sometimes Nate got tired of the lessons and wanted to do other things that the kids at school did with their nannies like getting treats and go fun places. Nate knew better than to talk about his lessons with Miss Lola with anyone but momma and papa so he pretended to do the same things as the other kids and it worked until one of the kids in his first-grade class called him a liar. Nate didn’t like being called a liar.

“No, it was me,” Nate admitted.

“Now, what did you do?” Nate shook his head again and his father leaned in closer to look the young boy in his eyes. “Let’s try that one more time. What did you do?”

“I lied and skipped lessons and made Miss Lola get me ice cream and snacks and go to the movies.”

“And this wasn’t once was it,” his father pushed. Nate could feel his throat close up. “It was a few times.”

“Yes sir,” he replied impossibly softer.

“I talked to Miss Lola. She’s in trouble too. She works for me and she’s supposed to be a grown up and not get carried away because a six-year-old gets pouty. But maybe she’s still too much of a kid too.” The last part comes out weird and Nate doesn’t know what to make of it.

“You’re a cute kid Nathaniel. You look just like your papa.” His father ruffled his deep red hair. People said that all the time, how much he looked like papa. They had the same eyes and the same hair. His nose looked more like momma’s they said. And he was a small wispy thing like her as well. But when he looked in the mirror, it was papa’s face that stared back at him. “I know this isn’t the first time you’ve lied to adults to get what you wanted. I’m actually pretty impressed you managed it with Miss Lola.”

Nate gave a small nod wondering if his papa was still angry.

“And one day this is going to be a good skill. You can go far with a pretty face and a nice smile. Charming people like your papa. You’d be good at it, I can tell.” Nate felt a small surge of pride at the approval.

 **“** Yes, Papa.”

His papa smiled, running his hands through Nate’s hair like he used to do when Nate was younger. Nate missed it. The hand in his hair tightened suddenly. It didn’t hurt but it was still a sharp change when the hand tilted his head up slightly and held him firm so he couldn’t move.

“Junior, I love you so much. You know that right?” Papa didn’t wait for a response. The hand tightened slightly. “But if you ever do something like that again we’re going to have a problem. No skipping out on lessons. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes papa,” Nate breathed. His father looked at him again as if searching for something in his expression. Then, without loosening his grip, he placed a small kiss on Nate’s forehead.

**Columbia, South Carolina**

“I can’t believe you’re finally joining us!”

Everything about Nicholas Hemmick is loud. Neil was already dreading his decision to go out with a few people at the office. It was only himself, Walker, Hemmick, Wilds, and Wilds’ friend from the precinct who had introduced himself as simply as Matt who had managed to make to the small bar only a few minutes away from the office. It was unremarkable, not much different than what you would expect the typical bar frequented by off-duty – well-lit and considerably well-stocked bar, more than a few booths around the perimeter, pool table near the restrooms at least half a dozen television sets playing various sports channels.

Neil sat facing the main doors, having had to compromise his position so he didn’t remain trapped in the middle of the booth with people on both sides. Instead, Walker sat directly to his right, Hemmick next to her, and then Matt and Dan. Neil wonders if there’s some history there with the easy way Wilds and Matt are pressed together in the booth despite there being enough room for them to sit a comfortable distance apart. Still, it was less potentially overwhelming than the prospect of meeting up with half the department on their usual night.

“I’m buying first rounds,” Wilds wiggles out of the both. “Neil what can I get you?”

“Just water’s fine,” Neil says quickly.

“Neil,” Hemmick whines, “that’s not the point of going out for drinks. We’re supposed to get you drunk so you can spill all your secrets.” It’s too close to the truth of what Neil plans to do. He should be socialized to fit in, but it didn’t hurt to get some information about his colleagues as well. He should have done this right from the start.

“Nicky,” Walker warns. Neil has found that she manages a lot of different ways to say his name but luckily most of them seem to shut the other man up. Wilds lets out a snort and disappears to get drinks.

“What, I’m just kidding,” he holds his hands up defensively.

Neil brushes him off. “It’s fine. I’ve just been avoiding alcohol since…” he trails off leaving the others to fill in the blanks. It’s not necessarily untrue, Neil typically avoids alcohol but he hopes the small bit of personal information is enough to satisfy Hemmick.

“No, uh, it’s…yeah,” Hemmick fumbles for a reply sparing a glance at Matt for help. Neil has to figure out his last name eventually.

“What Nicky means is that it’s cool, no pressure. You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” Matt raises an eyebrow at Hemmick, waiting for him to confirm. Hemmick nods profusely. Neil leans back his seat trying to look relieved. He gives Matt what he hopes is a small grateful smile. It’s been a while since Neil has bothered to do anything like this.

“So…I hear you met Andrew?” Hemmick says casually trying to change the topic.

“We met,” Neil replies tersely. Too tersely. “It was...interesting.”

“Don’t worry about it, it's not personal. He has that effect on most people.” Hemmick sounds almost sheepish. “I’d apologize for my cousin but there’s no point.”

“Cousin?”

“I know, the family resemblance isn’t that strong, but it’s still there. See, we have the same ears.” Hemmick leans over Walker into Neil’s space to show off his ears. Matt lets out a loud snort. “My dad set out to save the world from sin one mission at a time and knocked up a cute little village girl in Mexico. Luckily she made a proper godly man out of him.”

“So crass,” Matt rolls his eyes affectionately. "I don't know know if it's better that you met Aaron first. He's a bit of an asshole but he's not that bad." Neil remembers that Matt is a detective at the precinct and has likely run into Aaron Minyard at least a few times. His tone isn't remotely reassuring though.

"It’s a lot better not living with them anymore. I almost feel bad for Kevin though.” Before Neil can probe Hemmick further, Wilds comes back with the drinks. She sets a water in front of Neil and surprisingly Walker as well. Walker shoots him a small smile over the rim of her glass.

“So Neil, what’s your story?” Wilds says with fake casualness.

“Wow,” Matt takes a sip of his drink and shakes his head. “At least Nicky was straight up with his intentions.”

“What? This isn’t an interrogation.” She turns back to Neil. “I promise this isn’t an interrogation. It’s just that, we should have tried to get to know you sooner. I know how much it sucks being in a new city and not know anyone. We want you to feel more at home. Or at least more comfortable.” Wilds finishes with a pleading look at Neil.

Neil knows more about moving from place to place than Wilds could imagine but he politely refrains from mentioning it. Her eyes are open and honest and it digs a hole in Neil’s stomach. He takes a sip of water.

“There’s not much to say,” he aims for causal but ends up nervously tugging at his hair for something to do with his hands. “Grew up in Arizona. Studied criminology and psychology in Albuquerque. My dad… wasn't much of a dad and my mom passed away a while back. Joined the bureau a few years ago. Transferred down from Baltimore for a change of pace. That’s pretty much it.”

Neil gives a small shrug. It was the story that he’d reviewed with Browning and Wilson what seemed like forever ago. He’s practiced it a few times so it felt more natural. He’d spent enough time in Arizona but he made sure to read up enough about the University of New Mexico to solidify his story. The rest he could fill in with half-truths about his life – a deadbeat dad and a dead mother were enough that most people wouldn’t want to push. He was counting on it.

“This place is definitely less exciting than Baltimore,” Matt says from over the lip of his drink. “Usually anyway. I hear it’s getting pretty exciting though.”

“I thought we promised no work talk tonight,” Walker adds playing with the condensation around her glass of water. Matt manages to look apologetic.

“Well Neil, we’re happy you’re here now,” Walker smiles at him and for the first time he gives his own smile back. He doesn’t have the chance to see if it works on her because Walker’s attention sweeps over to a point beyond Neil’s head. Her voice comes out with an almost harsh tone Neil hasn’t heard from her before. “Seth.”

Behind Neil stands a tall man with sharp eyes and an even sharper jawline. Neil’s seen men like him before with a certain hardness about them that they tried very hard to project. His stance is coiled, seemingly relaxed but also clearly ready slink into fighting position. Seth doesn’t say anything but manages a small nod of acknowledgment at Walker. He turns to Matt and they do some quick well-practiced handshake.

“Allison’s not here,” Wilds says downing a large gulp of her beer.

“What makes you think I’m looking for her.” The two of them engage in a short stare down. It’s a strange contrast to Matt’s easy acceptance and even whatever uneasy had settled around Walker. The entire atmosphere shifted into something tense and wary with Seth’s arrival and Neil wasn’t entirely comfortable with his lack of insight into the situation. Seth backs down first and turns back to Matt. “I’m here with someone and I need the apartment for tonight.”

Matt raises his eyebrows slightly, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Sure man it’s fine. I’ll just crash at Dan’s.” Definitely something there then with the way Wilds’ lip quirks up slightly at the statement.

“Thanks. See you later then.” Seth raises his fist for another brief handshake. Neil turns slightly to watch the other man make his way to the bar where a casually dressed blonde woman sits. When he reaches her, the woman looks up at him with a smile. Neil can’t tell if he

“Holy shit,” Hemmick lets out a slow whistle. “She’s Allison-lite.”

“It’s been a year, you’d think he’d give up waiting to get back together for the millionth time.” Dan cranes her neck to get a better look at the pair at the bar. “Wow, that’s creepy.”

“Didn’t you say all skinny white blonde girls looked alike?”

“Don’t confuse me with you.”

The woman at the bar looks somewhat similar to Reynolds.  Both had long straight blonde hair and appeared to be what some might consider attractive. Neil isn’t particularly interested in how or why Matt’s friend knew the PR woman but Neil was willing to soak up any potentially worthwhile information about his coworkers. The incident with Andrew taught him he’d have to be more aware of the people around him and less caught up in his own head like he had his first few weeks here.

He was supposed to be a real person now. Even with the looming threat of his father’s people hanging over his head, Neil knew he was in a safer spot than he has in a long time even if everything about it made him feel trapped. He never saw his future working the family business, but he also never thought he’s been working for the Feds, that he’d be a Fed himself. He’d grown up knowing that the police and FBI were enemies and like most enemies, they had to be avoided entirely or stomped on.

Walker lets out a small cough. “I just texted Allison not to come just in case. She’s finishing stuff up at the office.” Walker sighs and runs a quick hand through her dark hair. Neil catches a flash of rainbow colors before Walker stops to check her buzzing phone.

The rest of the evening moves quickly. There’s a round of shots next and Hemmick almost snorts his out of his nose when Matt makes a joke the other man finds particularly funny. Wilds gradually relaxes as the evening wears on. After a few rounds, she looks considerably less stressed than Neil’s come to see her in the office, throwing her head back to laugh and inching closer to Matt until they were practically stitched at the hip. Hemmick cheerfully goes about his boyfriend who is away on business for the German company he works for until Matt complains that everyone else knew Erik's shoe size at that point. Walker is quieter but Neil learns she has weekly lunches with Andrew Minyard on Thursday at some bakery in town. He keeps them talking, neatly dodging as many questions about himself as possible citing the fact that he’s still new in town and hasn’t had the chance to explore or concentrate on anything but his job.

It’s a strange sort of relaxation Neil hasn’t been afforded in a while. There had been other bars and clubs and people and Neil felt contented enough before to play a role knowing full well he’d be long gone in a matter of days or weeks. It was something his father ingrained in him. Be charming, smooth. No one could resist an easy smile and calming presence.

Neil thinks the people in front of him with their easy-going smiles unfiltered friendliness and willingness to invite Neil to share in their weekly round of drinks. He’s met people like them before a dozen times over and he’s always been warier of them than of people like Seth who exuded underlying viciousness and aggression. Neil wonders if it would work on him if he were a different man, one had actually grown up as Neil Josten from Arizona with only a reasonably dysfunctional family and not the blood and violence he’d been surrounded by.

Neil remembers his first time he sinking a knife into a body more vividly than he remembers his first time riding a bicycle.

A hand lightly touches his shoulder. Neil blinks a few times and turns to face the source. Walker looks slightly apologetic. “Sorry, I just wanted to know if you wanted a ride home.”

“Uh, yeah,” Neil says without thinking. “I mean–”

“It’s okay Neil,” Walker cuts in. “Dan and Matt ordered a ride and Nicky is getting picked up. It’s a bit late so it wouldn’t be a bother.”

Neil can feel everyone’s eyes on him. He feels a bit set up. If he says no they’ll take it as a rejection but if he says yes, it’ll be a further invitation for them to try to squeeze into Neil’s life. Neil is tired of being backed into corners but he agrees to the ride anyway. Dan collects a few bills from Matt and Hemmick to settle their tab.

After a quick round of goodbyes, their party makes their way out of the bar. Matt and Dan station themselves by the windows lightly chatting and Hemmick crawls into a shiny sports car that speeds away at an alarming speed before the door is completely shut.

Walker is quiet on the walk to her truck. Neil gives her the address a few blocks away from his actual address. If she has anything to say about the safety of Neil’s neighborhood, she keeps it to herself.

“Thank you for coming out with us,” Walker says a few minutes into their ride. “I know it’s out of your comfort zone.”

“It’s fine. I had a good time.” It’s not exactly a lie, but it also wasn’t necessarily Neil’s intention for the night.

“I hope we didn’t push you so much. Dan and Nicky have been scheming to get you to socialize for a while now. We were worried that you would feel at home here. It’s hard to start over somewhere new. Dan, Allison and I met because we joined the office around the same time. I don’t think I would have found it as easy to adjust if it wasn’t for them.”

“I thought you were close with Min-Andrew,” Neil catches himself at the last second.

“He’s like a brother despite what everyone else seems to think is going on between us." Neil saves that tidbit of information, having not heard any implication of anything other than a platonic relationship between the two. "The twins have been through a lot. I hope your opinion of Aaron didn't sour things with Andrew. The twins can be difficult but Nicky is right, they're not terrible people. Just a bit difficult to get to know."

Neil hums in understanding. He still had to process the entirety of the evening. It was a lot more heavy socialization than he's thrown himself into for a long time. Even during his short assignment at the Baltimore field office, Neil hadn't managed to make many friends. The rest of their ride passes in relative quiet until the sharp ring of Walker’s phone breaks the silence.

Walker’s car is relatively new, so she has her cell phone hooked up to the car’s Bluetooth system. With a quick press of a button, she picks up a call.

“Sorry to do this to you Renee, but there’s another body in Congaree.”

The words echo in Neil's ears. Walker's entire body goes tense. She doesn't bother to ask what kind of body they're expecting to find. “I’m with Josten right now. We’re on our way.”

* * *

It takes less time than it should for Neil and Walker to make it to Congaree National Park. They flash their badges at one of the officers protecting the perimeter of the crime scene and make their way over to the clearing. The crime scene itself is eerily similar to the last. They’re in the middle of another clearing, body laid out in the center. It’s crawling with local police and federal alike, the organized bustle of law enforcement almost a distant hum with the body clearly displayed in the center of the clearing.

Walker makes her way to the detective previously in charge of the scene while Neil ignores everyone and makes his way to the body itself.

He’s only slightly more prepared for the body this time. He bites his nails into the palms of his hand to keep himself grounded. The pain isn’t enough to keep him from getting carried away by his other senses and the vivid memories from California, but it’s enough to help him push through.

It’s almost identical to the previous body – well burned but not down to the bone, blue dress, modest shoes. Neil peeks under the dress to find the same set of lacerations around the thighs. The only difference is the thick card tucked in the body’s folded arms where they rest across the chest. Neil calls over one of the other investigators for a pair of gloves.

His hands are shaking slightly. Everything about this case so far has been inching Neil closer and closer to the edge. He still didn’t know what to do about the information in the case file or how he was supposed to keep it together with the possibility of more bodies appearing. He dimly remembers Hemmick’s complaint about how he’d rather have another stabbing case and Neil can’t help but agree.

Carefully Neil opens the card to read the name printed in clear handwriting.

_Alex._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to set a more regular update schedule but I'm going to be sans internet for the next week. I'm thinking of doing every Wednesday and seeing how that goes. Also where's Kevin? Does Kevin exist in this AU? Everyone keeps mentioning him but where is he?


	4. sleeps atop a bag of raven's legs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surrey, England. Columbia, South Carolina. Baltimore, Maryland. The reality of Neil's decisions begins to catch up with him.

**Surrey, England**

“You can’t stay here.”

“You’re not going to kick me out yet. I haven’t even been gone 12 hours.”

Stuart leaned on the door frame and clucked his tongue in disapproval at his nephew who was working out the remaining kinks in his shoulder from the transatlantic flight. “And how long do you think you can stay here before your father starts asking questions. Do you have any idea how many bodies he’s going to drop looking for you?”

“I figure I have until fall break,” Neil said with false cheeriness.

“Listen here you little shit,” Stuart said taking a step into the room. “He has half a dozen guards on you. Chances are he probably knows you’re missing already and this is going to be the first place he looks. You might be my sister’s son, but I’m not risking an all-out war because you decided to take a little vacation from your responsibilities or to stage a rebellion or whatever the fuck this is.”

“This isn’t a vacation,” Nate turned to face his uncle head on. “I’m done. I want out.”

The tension in the room was palpable. It was the first time Nate voiced his desire aloud and now that it was out in the open the bitter truth of it was stifling. There’s no getting out especially for someone like Nate who was born with murder and violence in his blood.

“Fucking hell Nathaniel. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“I already told you, I want out. I don’t want to be him. I can’t be him.”

“There’s no out. You want a break. Come work with me for a bit. I can probably work something out with your father –”

“That’s not what I said. I’m done. I’m not taking over the business. I’m…” Nate tugged on his hair in distress. The pain was a small distraction but he could still feel the blood underneath his fingernails that couldn’t quite wash out no matter how many times he’d scrubbed his hands raw. There was the quickening heartbeat under his hands before the soft flutter as it died out. There were scrubbing bloodstains out of the carpet and power washing concrete. There was Lola’s training lesson and his father’s more hands-on approach and his mother’s cool indifference when he came home with the iron stench of blood wafting in the air around him.

He couldn’t take another five, ten, twenty, thirty years of it.

“He’s not you,” Nate couldn’t recognize his own voice, it seemed like nothing more than a distant echo somewhere far out in the distance. “He doesn’t do it just because he’s good at it and it pays the bills. He enjoys it. He loves it.”

And sometimes Nate did too. Sometimes he enjoyed the power and precision of it, the artistry and beauty, the ability to a weapon in his hands and manipulate it just so to warrant the reaction he desired.

Until one day he looked into the mirror and saw the echo of his father’s face staring back at him wild-eyed and dangerous smile. Until the day he realized his mother’s growing disinterest and distance towards him had opened up like a chasm in front of him that he was so desperate to overcome but couldn’t as long as he stood in the darkness of his father’s shadow. Until the blood on his hands no longer gave him brief euphoria and instead left him collapsed over the porcelain bowl in the bathroom until the contents of his stomach left him.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Uncle Stuart’s voice came from far away. “He’ll turn over the world looking for you. Whoever you think you might be saving by running away, he’ll take twice as many lives looking for you. Are you really that selfish?”

He was. “I am.”

“You’re a child. You don’t know anything about death.”

“He’s a monster. You said so yourself. You can either help me get out of here or leave me for dead.” Nate stared down his uncle and picked his next words carefully. “Do you really think she’ll forgive you for leaving her only kid out to die because you’re too much of a coward to do anything to help. You couldn’t get her out marrying a Wesninski so what can you do?”

She wouldn’t come looking for him. His mother had checked out of his life the moment he’d learned to turn his knives on a living person. The moment he’d pierced flesh, she’d stopped looking at him directly. But Uncle Stuart didn’t know that. He’d been more or less estranged from his sister for years. The fact that he hadn’t shot Nate on sight when he showed up on his uncle’s doorstep was enough to prove that he still cared about his sister and in turn her son. Nate was counting on it.

Uncle Stuart jaw twitched and he gave his nephew a long studying look. “She’ll come looking for you. Don’t doubt that.”

Nate furrowed his eyebrows in frustration.

His uncle continued. “And whatever blood spills between the two of you..is spilled because of the two of you is your fault.” Uncle Stuart’s shoulders relaxed, the fight leaving him and leaving him weary and bone tired. “I can help you get to your next location, maybe lend you some contacts but that’s it. You’re on your own. I won’t tell him where you are but that’s all I can do for you. Do you understand?”

Nate chewed his lip.

“I understand.”

**Columbia, South Carolina**

Vanesa Danvers, 46. Gina-Marie Bernard, 51. Both from the Baltimore area.

Neil takes a slow drag of his cigarette idly wondering why he bothered to quit smoking. The smell of smoke was a constant in most of his childhood memories. His father never smoked though he kept cigars around for his clients and business partners and if Lola ever did, the smell never adhered itself to her the way it did with his mother. He can’t remember what type of perfume his mother wore, but he still remembers the lingering smell of Virginia Slims that clung to her clothing.

It used to be a comforting act during the times they briefly parted ways while on the run to either throw off suspicion or to cool down because they were edging on more likely to kill each other before his father’s men did the job themselves. He couldn’t always find the right type, but it didn’t usually matter. Even just lighting a few would be comfort enough for him during their worst stretches of separation where the paranoia brought by closed contact was enough to keep him on edge. He’d cut himself off completely after she’d died.

He’s on his second pack in as many days.

Neil watches as the smoke curls and fades into faint wisps. The ground below him is littered with cigarettes – some smoked down to the filter, others barely lit and quickly discarded. The roof of the FBI field office is quiet and empty leaving Neil, for better or worse, with his thoughts.

Neil’s initial hunch after reviewing the case files from ten years ago was right. He’d suggested expanding their search area after no positive IDs were made in the surrounding area but nothing came to fruition until the second murder. How did the bodies of two women living in Baltimore, Maryland end up in a national park five hundred miles away in Columbia, South Carolina? Their flight to Baltimore was booked for tomorrow morning to interview the families of the victims.

Neil didn’t see why he was expected to tag along, but Wymack made it clear that he was expected to be present for the interviews. It’s been months since Neil left Baltimore for good for the second time. When he left for Georgetown at 18, he left with a plan of never returning. It was ridiculously easy to get his hands on the necessary documents about his enrollment and housing to keep up the rouse of attending in the fall despite having turned down his acceptance. When he returned shortly after his 25th birthday, he never intended to spend another two and a half years stationed there. No matter how many times he ran away, something always managed to drag him back to the city.

Neil takes a long drag of his cigarette letting the smoke fill his lungs until the back of his throat tickles from the discomfort of having gone so long without smoking. His hands shake but he ignores the tremor in favor of taking yet another drag.

He was a runaway, it’s what he did best. Yet, despite all his best efforts, he always landed right back in the place he was avoiding the most.

The sound of clicking breaks Neil out of his reverie.

Neil’s eyes dart to the roof access door to find Andrew Minyard staring blankly at him.

The other man doesn’t say anything. He moves with ease to the very edge of the rooftop, takes out a packet of cigarettes, shakes out a single cigarette before lighting it and taking a slow drag. They sit in silence for several minutes. Andrew finishes his cigarette and lights another one.

“Staring,” Andrew says shortly.

“Wondering if you’re going to jump off,” Neil replies.

Andrew takes another long drag, still staring off into the distance, “you’d let me fall.”

Neil doesn’t bother to correct him.

He’s different than the first time Neil saw him. He’s not bouncing with that thrum of energy that seemed to buzz under the surface of his skin. He’s still, almost too still, shoulders set back in a relaxed set and posture lax. His voice is flatter and bordering on monotonic. He almost reminds Neil of Aaron but the disdain is replaced with boredom and disinterest. From what Neil can see of his face, it set in a flat bored expression that sharply contrasts with the large manic smile that stretched across his face last time.

“You’ve never worked a murder investigation before.” It’s not a question.

“I worked the trucker stabbing case.”

“Before here,” Andrew amends. “You worked strictly organized crime before. Might have had a few murders but that wasn’t your focus yet you’re working with Nicky and Renee. Reyes and Carter would have been a better match for you.”

“Ask Wymack,” Neil shrugs absently playing with his lighter. “It’s the same department. Just a different focus.”

No one other than Wilds and Wymack knew Columbia wasn’t his first assignment and even then, most of the details of his work this first few year at the Bureau was _privileged information_ as Browning would like to say. Neil isn’t sure how much digging Andrew had to do to find out about his work in Baltimore, but the idea of anyone digging into Neil’s past made him uneasy. Andrew doesn’t say anything for a long time. He finishes his cigarette and stubs out the butt with his shoe.

“Your file is,” he pauses to pick his next words carefully, “unusual.”

“Are you that paranoid about everyone who comes to work at the office?” Neil flicked his lighter on and off a few times to distract himself from the growing panic building in his stomach.

“Only the liars.”

“You can ask me anything, and I’ll give you the truth,” Neil offers simply.

“Oh Neil, how am I supposed to believe anything you say?”

Neil’s a liar. He’s always been a liar. Trust isn’t something that should be given freely. In Neil’s relatively short time, he’d not to place too much trust in anyone but himself. The brand on his shoulder stings with the reminder of the last time he forgot the lesson – his father’s employees, no matter how seemingly close or kind to him they were to Neil as a child, were loyal to his father above anyone else.

But Andrew is something else entirely. Neil doesn’t expect trust from people, the fact that Matt had gotten a hold of his number to wish him luck on the case and offer to hang out, or Hemmick started bringing him in coffee in the mornings, or Walker invited him to lunch last Tuesday was still foreign. He didn’t expect trust from Andrew but he also didn’t expect the shroud of skepticism and suspicion Andrew had placed over him. He’d go been thrown off during their first interaction and took the defensive and now he’s paying for it.

He doesn’t need Andrew’s trust, he just needs the other man to throw aside his suspicion and stop digging through Neil’s past.

“Truth for truth then,” Neil says carefully. “I’ll give you a truth and if you do the same.”

“I don’t play games with liars,” Andrew turns to face Neil for the first time. Despite knowing what to expect, Neil is still thrown by the sudden change. His face is just as unreadable as his tone. Neil learned to adapt his presence in response to whatever other people gave him but Andrew was like a blank slate giving Neil nothing to work with.

Neil forces a casual shrug. Andrew studies him for a few long moments before abruptly turning on his heel away from the edge of the roof and through the access door leaving Neil completely along yet again.

Neil releases a long sigh and stares out over the expanse. Vanesa Danvers, 46. Gina-Marie Bernard, 51. Both from the Baltimore area.

* * *

 

Their flight takes off early the next morning. It’s an hour and a half flight and they’re scheduled to fly down later in the evening after checking into the Baltimore office and meeting with the families of both victims. Neil hitches a ride with Walker at her insistence and Hemmick shows up with takeout, a heavily medicated Andrew, and surprisingly Kevin Day. Since the day Andrew dropped an entire load of related Baltimore cases – named The Fort McHenry Burner, which Neil staunchly refused to use – they’d only seen each other before the encounter on the roof.

“Don’t mind him,” Hemmick says ushering his cousin onto the plane, “he’s five Benadryl deep right now.” Day’s face twists into a deep frown.

Neil has seen Kevin Day around the office a few times but never managed to get more than his name and a vague description of his job title during his first week (“he makes sure everything is running efficiently then forces us to go to meetings so he can yell at us because things aren’t running efficiently” Hemmick had said helpfully).

“He should have taken it earlier. He’s not going to be able to work if he’s completely drugged out. I’m not putting up with this again.” Day scolds.

Whatever response Day is waiting for Andrew doesn’t give so the other man turns to Hemmick. “Nicky, tell your cousin that he can’t get through the investigation if he’s passed out.”

“Nicky, tell Kevin that I don’t give a shit,” Andrew says in a bored monotone. He looks mostly the same as he did on the roof the day before, every bit as expressionless and disinterested but his eyes have a slightly dazed and clouded quality to them.

“Andrew, I’m right here, talk to me like an adult,” Day snaps back. “I couldn’t talk Wymack out of making Josten go and we’re completely out of budget since you won’t get on a fucking commercial flight like a normal person.”

“Kevin, I’m sure there’s some room in the budget,” Walker speaks up in defense. “We don’t have that many cases that take us far out of the office. Plus, Andrew is part of the team. He’s done a lot already to get this investigation going.”

“Besides, we’re obviously missing something important,” Hemmick sighs. “We need a decent analyst on the ground with us.”

“I already did my job, I’m not doing yours,” Andrew says. “For someone with a few years in the FBI, you don’t know anything. Or are all field agents that stupid?”

“Forensics specialist,” Neil corrects mildly.

“Is that what you did your first few years in the Bureau?” Andrew already knows the answer to the question.

Hemmick gives a curious look but Day ignores the interruption.

“Exactly, he has the same access to resources here so why does he need to go?” Day rubs a hand over his face in frustration.

“Kevin, he’s already here, what does it matter now anyway? Unless you’re upset that you’re missing out on quality time together.” Day’s face twists into something close to disgust but Hemmick’s face merely turns to one of amusement. “I know you two can’t be apart but it’s only a day. Even Erik wasn’t that upset.”

Kevin’s face reddens. Neil aims a speculative glance towards Andrew who, once again, looks completely tuned out to the conversation at hand.

“Don’t worry Kevin,” Hemmick continues, “next time I can stay behind and keep you company.”

“Just get on the damn plane,” Kevin hisses out. Hemmick lets out a loud laugh and ushers Andrew into the plane.

Walker is there waiting for them with her case files and tablet already open to run through the case. Hemmick takes a quick trip to the cockpit before returning and doling out the takeout that Andrew had dutifully been holding onto in his stead. Neil readily accepts Hemmick’s offering of food. Takeout, of any kind, was a luxury Neil rarely afforded. It cost too much for a single meal and whatever leftover that remained would go to waste immediately if he had to change locations in a hurry. Still, a token of friendship or not, Neil knows better than to reject free food.

Andrew excuses himself, which is to say he moves to the back of the plane and curls up by the window without speaking to anyone until several minutes after takeoff. He rejoins the group, looking even more drowsy than before yet miraculously still awake and accepts his food as well.

“So Neil,” Hemmick says with fake casualness about thirty minutes into their hour and a half flight, “where were you stationed before?”

“Yes, Neil. Where were you stationed before?” Andrew doesn’t look up from his food and his voice is still as flat as it’s been since earlier but now with the faintest of slurs to his words.

“Baltimore,” Neil impresses himself by getting the word out calmly.

“Really? How long? Why didn’t you mention it before?” Hemmick prattles off a long list of questions that Neil can’t fully focus on with his full attention on Andrew. The antihistamine should have knocked him out entirely by now especially if what Hemmick said about the large dose was true.

“Two years. It didn’t really come up.” Neil says still studying Andrew. Hemmick frowns slightly at the answer but doesn’t push it further. Andrew takes another lazy bite of his tofu and returns the gaze.

He should be out by now. At this rate, Hemmick might have to full on carry him out of the plane and while Andrew appeared amendable to his cousin’s gentle prodding to get on the plane, he didn’t seem like the type of person to take to kindly be touched that way even with family. Neil’s eyes follow another piece of tofu as it disappeared into Andrew’s mouth and he slowly chewed over the food.

“Neil,” Walker speaks for the first time since her brief thank you for receiving her food, “do you know a Tetsuji Moriyama? He worked at the Baltimore office as well. He was lead on the Fort McHenry case. I know they’re larger than us, but I was wondering if he had any other information about the cases and if it’s possible for us to go see him.”

Neil’s attention breaks from Andrew.

“I’ve never met him,” Neil swallows feeling his heart climb to his throat. He takes another bite of his own food to give himself more time to answer. “He must have retired before I got there.”

“Hmm, you’re probably right. It has been almost ten years. Still, it might help to pay him a visit while we’re there if he’s still in the area.”

“It’s an unsolved case, I doubt he wants to be reminded of his failure.”

Walker gives him a halfhearted hum in response and turns back to her work. When Neil looks up, Andrew’s eyes haven’t broken away from him. Still thoughtfully chewing and carefully studying.

**Baltimore, Maryland**

When they reach their destination almost an hour later an agent is waiting for them with a car to escort them to the field office. Andrew is shockingly still mostly lucid and crawls into the backseat without speaking to anyone. He looks every bit of his small frame curled into the seat and Neil almost forgets for a moment how much his mere presence causes trepidation and fear in their own office. Neil would almost mistake him for asleep if it wasn’t for the sharp eye he keeps on the driver the entire ride.

During the drive, Neil stares directly at the seat ahead of him, completely ignoring the city passing slowly by him. It’s easier this way much in the same way it was easier when he first returned. The city had grown and changed since he was a teenager in the same way it had continued to change in the months since he’d been there last. But the subtle changes were almost worse to handle, the knowledge that he could never escape and his excursions away from Baltimore were growing shorter and shorter.

They reach the office without incident and Neil and Andrew both drag their feet getting out of the car.

Neil goes through the process of checking in and talking logistics with the director of the branch, Special Agent Hernandez, in a dim haze. Words are exchanged but luckily Neil’s former superior decides not to make small talk about his new assignment. He knows he can’t completely avoid speaking with Hernandez, but he’s thankful enough for the small reprieve.

Neil excuses himself after a few minutes to retrieve some files from the car and followed by Andrew, who had been doing a surprising job of acting sober if not completely disinterested which wasn’t necessarily out of character during the conversation.

They reach the car in the parking garage without exchanging a single word. Andrew leans against the car and lights two cigarettes. Carefully, he passes one to Neil who accepts.

“Why are you anxious about being back here,” Andrew says after an indeterminate stretch of time. Somehow Neil knows he means Baltimore in general, but the field office specific.

“I’m not anxious,” Neil replies automatically. He winces at his own lie and takes a long drag of his cigarette. “I just don’t like it here. Too many memories and most, not that…pleasant.”

“You still came back. You could have listened to Day and stayed. Wymack wasn’t pushing that hard for you to come here. That’s not his style.”

“That’s not a question,” Neil presses himself more firmly at the car. The weight of it against his back is grounding. Neil doesn’t take another drag but he still takes a deep breath of the smell of the smoke around him.

They finish their cigarettes in silence. Neil half expects Andrew to light another after crushing his own under the heel of his boot. Neil drops his own on the ground and checks the time on his flip phone. “It’s been too long. We should get back.”

He pushes off the car and takes several paces forward until he realizes that Andrew isn’t following behind him. Andrew stays leaned against the car, eyes trained on Neil despite the slightly droopy quality they’ve finally taken.

“You haven’t asked your question yet,” he says simply.

“You’re high,” Neil responds, “you’d answer anything I asked you.”

Andrew stares him down for a few long moments and Neil meets his gaze unblinkingly. Then suddenly he pushes off the car and brushes past Neil into the building.  

Neil runs through the brief conversation on the walk back. He studies the steady lines of Andrew’s shoulder as if he could stare straight through the man if he just tried hard enough. Andrew makes it back to Hernandez’s office and enters without knocking, Neil trailing slightly behind him.

In their absence, two new figures had taken their place. As soon as they enter, the two men stand in tandem. They look almost comical together. The height difference isn’t as pronounced as the difference between Andrew and Hemmick but it’s still noticeable. They both sport dark hair but the color looks more natural on the shorter man who looks completely at ease in the office despite it belonging to someone else. The taller man, in turn, has a face permanently etched to look serious and condescending.

“Ah, you must be Special Agent Neil Josten and Special Agent Andrew Minyard,” the shorter man extends his hand. Andrew stares at it briefly but doesn’t shake it which makes the other man’s face twitch in annoyance before he can school his expression back into something placid and calm. He extends his hand towards Neil instead who takes it gingerly only to be met with a bone-crushing pressure. He narrows his eyes slightly but otherwise doesn’t let the pain register on his face.

“We were hoping to beat you here but that doesn’t seem to be the case,” the man continues. His mouth stretches into an overly wide smile. “I’m Special Agent Riko Moriyama and this is my partner Special Agent Jean Moreau. I hear you’ve been working on my uncle’s case.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. I mean, plot moved forward so that's good at least? I really need a beta. I'm slowly turning into a husk. I was on vacation for a week and then completely overhauled the entire plot. But Kevin finally appears as does more of Neil's backstory. 
> 
> Chapter title from Exxus by Glass Animals. More regular update schedule coming soon. Find me on tumblr @thepalmtoptiger


	5. oh what a world i was born into

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is entirely backstory and a lot shorter than previous chapters. It honestly wasn't even supposed to happen but I wanted to clear up some stuff that had been building up before proceeding to the main storyline. I don't think I even did that much editing. I wrote this pretty quickly so if there are any mistakes let me know. Please beware of the added tags and warnings for this chapter. 
> 
> Chapter title: Pilgrim by MØ

**Millport, Arizona**

Nathaniel lost track of the days. Everything moved slowly in a haze of alcohol and lost periods of time. Nate died in Surrey and so Giorgio was born in Calais who died somewhere in Brussels where Phillipe was born who died in Heidelberg where Axel was born and on it went. He hadn’t been Nathaniel since his birth when Marry grew tired of Lola deciding to call him little Nathan, and so he became Nate.

But where Nate was breed to kill and to torture, Nathaniel was nothing more than a lost child with no guidance. He wasn’t the child Lola helped rear into a killer or the man Mary dragged through the world and taught to survive.

His stash of money was dwindling fast but he couldn’t be bothered to pay it much mind. He’d already spent close to a year in Millport, far longer than he’d spent anywhere else and the idleness was a comfortable reprieve from life on the run. It was dangerous but Nathan Wesninski was in federal prison however temporary by Nathaniel’s own hands, Nathaniel was sure that even if his father’s men caught up to him, the other man would gain no satisfaction if he wasn’t the one to kill his son himself.

Nathaniel probably wouldn’t make it to twenty-five.

A sharp knock came from the door. Nathaniel sat up in alarm, clutching his gun close to his chest. The knocking grew until it was met with deep thuds and the door burst open. Nathaniel fired a full round, hands trembling and gun clicking when it ran out of bullets. But no one entered. Nathaniel glanced around for another clip but it was too far away.

Two dark looming figures made their way through the doorway before parting for a leaner man in an impeccable dark suit. He was a more than a few years older than Nathaniel, somewhere edging along his mid to late thirties but he looked well polished for his age.

“The response time in this neighborhood is approximately six minutes so let’s not waste any time,” he said smoothly. He spared a quick glance around the room at the few empty alcohol bottles stacked next to Nathaniel on the living room floor. “Nathaniel Wesninski, I suggest you come with me.”

Nathaniel sat up, still slumped and holding his weight awkwardly on one side.

“You’re drunk,” the man curled his lip slightly in disgust, “how cliché. Man loses a woman in life, blames himself, and lets himself wallow away in alcoholism. Like she was the only one giving him a purpose in life as if she didn’t have a life of her own.”

The man took a few casual steps into the room, his bodyguards closely following him.

“I’m not an alcoholic,” Nathaniel protested weakly.

“Well you’re on your way there,” the man countered. “My name is Ichirou Moriyama. You haven’t heard of me but my uncle was well acquainted with your father.”

“I’ve never heard his–”

“You wouldn’t have. Tetsuji Moriyama worked for the FBI. He was a good agent when he wasn’t accepting bribes from your father.” Nathaniel scrubbed a hand over his face trying to focus on the other man’s words. Of course, his father had a few FBI agents on his payroll. It wasn’t surprising in the least.

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Two minutes boss,” one of the grunts said.

Ichirou fixed him with an intense gaze. “Your father is going to get out. They don’t have enough on him to keep him there. And when he does he’s going to all out looking for you now that your mother isn’t around to protect you. I have some information that can keep him there.”

“And what does that have to do with me?” Nathaniel narrowed his eyes at him.

“You won’t have to join him in federal prison.”

“One minute boss.”

“So are you coming or not?”

**Tucson, Arizona**

The car ride was brisk but quiet. Nathaniel could feel himself slowly sobering up as the passed through the town he’d hunkered down in for the last eight months. Ichirou didn’t explain himself and Nathaniel didn’t bother asking any questions. If he was going to die, he figured that the other man would give him a quick death rather than drag it out like his father would.

They arrived at a medium sized home on the outskirts of Tucson and one of Ichirou’s men lead them into the house. Ichirou ignored the whiskey in the corner of the room and seated himself across from Nathaniel.

“What information do you have on my father?” Nathaniel said abruptly.

Ichirou leveled him with a measured gaze. “More than you gave them when you left. Enough to ensure that he actually stays in prison and not on the flimsy charges they pinned on him, to begin with.”

Nathaniel’s breath caught on the accusation. Even his mother hadn’t known that he’d planted information on his father with the FBI before leaving home. “What do you have?”

“I’m not stupid enough to tell you what I have until you agree to my terms.”

“And what would they be?”

Ichirou’s face grew into a grim smile. “I need you to kill my brother.” The words hung in the air between them like static. Nathaniel ran through them repeated them, again and again, searching for any other meaning.

“Riko has been…a nuisance to the family. And now that our father has been promoted to Director of the FBI, he’s only going to get worse. He’s ambitious to a fault and more prideful and vengeful than his limited talent has room for.”

“So that means death?”

“My father is too sentimental to agree to his brother’s death. But Riko grew under our uncle’s tutelage. He’s just as much as a tumorous growth to the family name. Uncle has already retired. Too many years in service and too much accompanying trauma for him to continue. It’s sad really.” Nathaniel had no doubt the Tetsuji Moriyama’s retirement had nothing to do with work-related trauma.

“I give you what you need to take down your father, you take care of my brother.”

“You could have asked anyone else to do this.”

“Who anyone else be as desperate? I’m a businessman. A legitimate one at that. I can’t have it spreading around that my own uncle did backdoor dealings with a common criminal. And my father can’t afford the same. Uncle knows his place, but Riko needs to learn his. I need him brought to his knees until death would be a reprieve from the shame he would bring onto himself and the family.”

Ichirou gave him another grim smile. “I’m giving you a chance at life. It’s not like you’ve never killed anyone before. What else do you have to lose?”

**New York, New York**

Nathaniel didn’t like guns, knives were the preferred tools of his father’s men but Lola hadn’t slacked off in training in training him in both. Years on the run had also improved is accuracy surely out of necessity. It was easier to hit a target in practice than it was to hit a moving target when your life was in danger.

It was months since his meeting with Ichirou. He’d spent the time weening himself out of months of heavy drinking. Ichirou was courteous enough to provide a private doctor as he shook through withdrawal. He hadn’t realized that his drinking had come to that, but he was lucky that it hadn’t gone on any longer. The rest of the time, he’d spent practicing and rehoning his skills knives and guns.

Riko was stationed in the New York field office working in the organized and violent crimes division. It took months of following him and his partner, learning their schedules, picking up their habits and quirks. If it wasn’t for Nathaniel’s inordinate ability to blend in, he would have been caught days into his surveillance.

Sneaking into the apartment unnoticed was surprisingly easy. He’d only had to get his own apartment the floor above under a false name with forged documents to get closer. He seemed like the perfectly normal if a bit quiet and shy. He was supposedly claustrophobic and took the stairs every day to avoid running into his mark in the elevator. Mark Ellis was a perfectly normal man.

It took a few months to put the plan in motion. Nathaniel snuck into the apartment the floor below his own. He was safe, no one had heard him. The apartment was a perfect duplicate of his the floor about so he’d only had to make one prior run through a few weeks ago. The lights were on in the kitchen and the soft pattering about was the perfect disguise for his quiet footfalls.

In the end, it was anti-climactic. One shot and he was down. A silencer didn’t assure absolute silence but during the day was enough when most the neighbors would be out and unlikely to hear the sound.

* * *

“A shot to the knee,” Ichirou’s irate voice hissed on the other end of the receiver of Nathaniel’s burner phone only hours later. “This isn’t what we agreed to.”

“You wanted him brought to his knees and that’s exactly what I did” Nathaniel hitched his duffle bag over his should. As far as his super was concerned when he moved out with the claim that his sister would clean out his apartment later, the recent shooting had spooked him enough to make him want to clear out as soon as possible.

“I wanted him gone,” Ichirou snapped back. It was the first time Nathaniel heard the other man lose his temper. “And somehow he’s still alive.”

“You wanted him shamed first and he’s well on his way there. Hopefully, he’ll put a bullet in his own head and you won’t have to worry about it.”

Ichirou swore in Japanese at someone next to him. “This isn’t over. How do you expect to get your information now?”

“You’ll hand it over to me just like you agreed. Quid pro quo like your uncle did.”

“And how do you think that will happen?”

“They’ll offer me a deal,” Nathaniel said slowly. “I’ll give them just enough so they’d want me to testify against my father in court. I won’t take it though so they’ll probably promise me something else in order to piece together the rest of the things they wouldn’t already know. But I’ll already have that information and I'll feed it to them slowly and let them think they're doing it themselves.”

Nathaniel paused. As long as he didn't appear too eager with the FBI, his plan might just work. He was banking his life on it, but then again he never expected to make it this long. He looked around at the other people gathered at the train station. Adapt and survive. That’s what his mother taught him. He knew if he had just killed Riko on the spot Ichirou would have no more use for him. He’d sooner kill Nathaniel himself than hand him over the information about his father. He didn’t care whether or not the Butcher stayed in federal prison, it was just enough leverage for him to get Nathaniel to do what he wanted.

But Nathaniel was a runner and as long as he didn’t make the mistake of staying somewhere as long as he had in Millport, he could survive. It would cost too much money and resources for Ichirou to find him and he couldn’t afford to sully his hands in the seedy underground much more than he already had just to find Nathaniel. And there was no way Nathaniel would offer up either of the son’s of the FBI Director up as part of some criminal conspiracy if he wanted to live. They were at a stalemate.

Ichirou let out a loud and cruel laugh. “So you’ll let yourself become like my uncle? Is that what you’re saying? And that you’ll find a way to get to my brother? And then what?”

“I’ll take him down slowly and surely. Isn’t that what you wanted. Because just killing him would have been easy enough but you came to me. Anyone can shoot a gun. You want to humiliate him and your uncle.”

“And what makes you think they’ll let you in.”

Nathaniel allowed himself a small smile, an echo of the Butcher's manic grin. “I grew up on blood. I’ll always know what they’re looking for better than they do.”

Adapt and survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me at Tumblr @thepalmtoptiger


	6. you are in my firing lane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riko and Jean make an appearance. The investigation reaches a turning point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see additional warnings at the end of the chapter.
> 
> What is editing? Let me know if there are any mistakes. Seriously don't expect chapters to come this quickly in the future. I really don't know how this happened. Also the plot moves forward. 
> 
> Chapter title from Firing Line by Hoodlem.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @thepalmtoptiger.

**Baltimore, Maryland**

Neil has seen Riko Moriyama before even if it was the first time the other man had laid eyes on him. Neil had spent months surveilling him in New York only a few years ago. Still, despite the time lapse, the other man still carried himself with a shadow of pride and poise. Neil witness around him before. Not for the first time, Neil wondered if this second skin was something he’d borrow from his older brother. While Ichirou wore it like a second skin, Riko wore it like a borrowed suit he was insistent on no one noticing.

Neil takes back his hand and turns to where Hernandez, Hemmick, and Walker are stationed for some kind of greater explanation.

“Agent Moriyama and Agent Moreau heard of our case down in Carolina and once Agent Moriyama noticed the similarities between it and his uncle’s old case, he wanted to lend some assistance,” Walker provides. Even though her tone is calm and soothing it reminds Neil distantly of her voice at the bar at Seth’s sudden arrival. Neil files the information away.

“That’s generous of you,” Neil pastes his own approximation of a polite smile on his face. “You must be bored at your office to decide to come all the way down here for a case that has nothing to do with you. I guess they could spare you then.”

“Now Agent Josten,” Riko meets him with a smile that’s equally teeming with falseness, “we might be in different offices but we’re still a team. My uncle has retired. Too much of the job was getting to him. It seems the least I could do for him was help close this case.”

“You’re out of jurisdiction. And unless he was violating confidentiality and sharing case files with you before you joined the Bureau, I can’t imagine what help you’d bring by being here.” Neil counters. The entire room plunges into silence. Hemmick stands gap-mouthed at his cousin, who still hasn’t bothered to move from the open doorway. Chances are anyone passing by could have heard the exchange.

Hernandez finally decides to regain control of his office. “Well thank you Agents Moriyama and Moreau for…generously offering your time. It might have been better suited for a phone call but it means a lot to us here for your…consideration.”

Riko turns to the higher up and gives a much more genial smile, “Of course. We were just here to lend a hand.”

“Thank you for thinking of us,” Hernandez says with a brief nod.

“Well, if there’s anything we could ever do to help, let us know,” he turns his gaze towards Neil. “I can’t imagine you have as many resources down in Columbia to deal with such a case. And it’d be a shame to keep depending on this office to compensate for your insufficiencies.”

Neil can feel the last dredges of his composure begin to slip. He clenches his teeth with the effort to not reply to Riko’s bait. A hand grasps the back of Neil’s suit, pulling him away from the doorframe so that Riko and Jean can leave. Andrew keeps his firm grasp on Neil until the slight quivers of rage leave his body.

“Well, that was interesting,” Hemmick rubs some of the tension from his shoulders. “Anyway, Special Agent Hernandez, thank you for having us. We’re going to interview Vanesa Danvers’ family first and then Gina-Marie Bernard’s. We’re already running a little late, but I hope that’s not a problem.”

“Of course not,” Hernandez seems relieved to get back the actual contents of the case. “We have a car you can use while you’re here and access to our systems. Let us know if you need anything else.”

“Got it,” Hemmick stretches a broad smile on his face and takes the offered keys.

The walk back to the parking garage is quiet. As soon as they leave the main part of the office, Hemmick’s usual cheerfulness slips off his face and his shoulders coil in tension. The interaction back in Hernandez’s office, no matter how brief, has them all shaken. Even Andrew, who finally seems to be feeling the effects of the Benadryl has his eyebrows slightly furrowed. Though, it could just be him fighting sleep.

Hemmick takes the wheel with Walker riding shotgun. Andrew doesn’t bother with a seat belt and decides to curl up with his backpack holding his laptop and whatever other tech supplies he normally carries with him.

* * *

Neil lasts about five minutes in the Danvers household before he wants to run out of there. Both her husband and mother are sobbing their eyes out. Her younger daughter outright refuses to leave her room and her oldest son, who came home from college, is blank-faced and staring somewhere past Walker’s head. He doesn’t know how Hemmick and Walker manage to muster enough sympathy or professionalism to do this.

He should have stayed with Andrew in the car.

Bodies and reading people. Those were Neil greatest skills but he didn’t need to use either to know that the family had no involvement in Vanesa Danvers murder. The most curious part of the puzzle was that she was gone for at least a good eight hours, the amount of time it took to drive from Baltimore to Columbia, without anyone knowing she was missing. Then again, it was a work day but her husband mentioned that she still usually called around lunchtime and on her way home which is when they started to become suspicious. But since the investigation was confined to the Baltimore area, they didn’t find anything weeks later when her body was found in Columbia.

The Bernard household is more of the same. No husband but a working mother with two children, one in high school and one recently out of college. She went to work at her usual time and didn’t return home. He youngest son began to worry and called his older brother. The older brother didn’t think much of it and allowed the teenager to stay with him until she returned. He didn’t file a missing person’s report until days later.

By the time they return to the Baltimore office, the entire group is mentally and physically exhausted. Andrew eventually comes out of his stupor and begins running the footage Neil was permitted to take of the interviews. It’s a slow going process with Walker and Andrew pouring through the footage while Neil and Walker made a cliché corkboard connecting the little pieces they knew about the case.

“You know,” Hemmick says randomly “it’s probably some middle-aged white guy with a superiority complex, mommy issues, and some self-contained interest in arson.”

“Watch too much CSI dear cousin?” Andrew adds dryly not looking up from his screen.

Hemmick shrugs his shoulders lightly. “Isn’t that always the case though? Nothing new here. Something isn’t adding up,”

Hemmick steps back from the board to get a better view. “How did these bodies travel from here to Columbia. It’s an eight-hour drive. Not exactly a short trip…did the toxicology show any signs of drugging?”

“None,” Neil recites from memory.

“So either they were killed here and their bodies were moved. Or they willingly took a road trip to Columbia.”

Hemmick moves closer again to inspect Gina-Marie Bernard’s pin. “They have families. Tightly knit ones. They wouldn’t just run off like that. They had to have been killed here.”

“Rigor mortis sets in after four hours,” Neil continues, “if she was killed here and moved to South Carolina, then the body would be almost in full rigor mortis. They would have to stop for gas and it would stink. But if they burned the body here and moved it down. They would what, get a plastic sheet, place it in the trunk and drive it down?”

“There don’t seem to be any connections between the victims or their inner circle. Their kids never attended the same school, they lived on opposite sides of town, they didn’t even go to the same gym. There’s absolutely nothing connecting them.”

Neil buries his head in his hands. “This is getting us nowhere. We should have just stayed in Columbia.”

“You sound like Kevin,” Hemmick adds. Walker and Andrew work quietly in tandem, halting the video every now and again and talking more notes. It was slow advancement, but they seemed to be progressing much more than Neil and Hemmick.

“Maybe they’re targeting specific types of people. Happy families kids the same age?” Neil throws out randomly.

“What do you mean?”

Neil took another glance at the board and points at two dots on the corkboard. “They’re about the same age. Their kids are about the same age. Two sons. Jason Danvers is in grad school, 24. Marcus Bernard is 26 just finished a few years ago. Danvers has a 16-year-old daughter and Bernard has a 17-year-old son. About the same ages.”

“A lot of people in their late 40s and early 50s have kids in college or who finished college. Or even teenagers.” Hemmick sighs. “Andrew, Renee, are you two finding anything else useful in the videos?”

Walker removes her headphones and gives a solemn shake of her head. “Nothing we didn’t see in the initial interviews." They progress at a slow speed for the next half hour, their investigation making little progress.

Suddenly, there’s a sharp rap on the door and Hernandez peeks his head in with a grim expression on this face. Walker removes her headphones and looks up at him.

“We have another body,” Hernandez says.

* * *

It’s in Fort McHenry much like the original set of bodies. In a way, it was fitting Neil thought but he didn’t bother to voice it aloud. The drive is expectedly silent and grim. The crime scene itself is the usual organized chaos. They flash their badges, dodge local police, maneuver around crime scene photographers. Everything has the same hum as the previous crime scene, but as Neil approaches the body, he can tell something is different.

The victim is still dressed up in the standard blue dress, hands folded across her chest and polished black shoe adorning her feet. Everything is the same as the previous bodies her body is burned, not completely but just charred enough that immediate identification would prove different. Everything is the same.

Except her legs are severed.

They lay a slight distance from the hem of her dress charred in the same way as the rest of her body and the bodies before. Hemmick and Walker are inspecting the general scene and talking to the officers on sight. Neil crouches down to take another glance at the body. He takes in the angle which the legs are severed. It’s not dead on from the top of the femur in a clear near straight cut the way you would expect. This femur is severed at an angle. As if someone took a butcher’s knife and cut through from the from the inner thigh instead leaving the slash diagonal from the front view.

Neil stands and turns away from the body, tugging on his hair and pacing small circles next to the body. Walker gives him a concerned look but Neil waves him off. He takes off in a beeline for their Bureau car far removed from the crime scene. Andrew stands by the car smoking another cigarette and staring into the forest.

“Get in,” Neil demands.

Andrew raises a single eyebrow, “why would I do that?”

“I need your help,” Neil grits his teeth. “Or you can stay here and act like the crime scene doesn’t make you as nauseous as it does your cousin.”

Andrew stares him down for another long moment. He blows a large plume of smoke in Neil’s face before stubbing out his cigarette and rounding over to the driver’s seat of the car. Neil sighs knowing that it’s not worth the argument and gets in the passenger seat. He sends a quick text to Hemmick to let him know they had gone on.

“I need your phone,” Neil says after a prolonged moment of silence in the car.

“Use your own.”

“…I don’t have GPS,” Neil says reminded of his flip phone.

Andrew passes over his phone without further protest. Neil runs a quick Google search and plugs the address into the phone’s GPS. Andrew prefers to drive in silence so the radio is off leaving the only sound of noise Neil’s terse instructions.

“When did you start smoking?” Neil asks after a few minutes of quiet.

“Is that your question?” Andrew asks not taking his eyes off the road. Neil doesn’t respond letting the statement linger in the air. Neil stays silent until they reach their destination. Andrew parks the car and gives the building a slow once-over. Neil gets out of the car leaving Andrew to follow behind.

The building is chilly, but Neil didn’t expect anything else. He peers at the display case and the man behind the counter gives him a quick once-over.

“Can I help you kid,” the man asks in a gruff voice. The bell overhead jingles as Andrew joins him.

Neil studies the display carefully weighing his options before pointing at a single knife, “this one.”

The man nods and pulls the knife out of the display case. It’s carefully wrapped such that the blade itself is sheathed. It could be used as a blunt object but not much else. Neil feels the weight of it in his hands and nods at the butcher.

“You carry goat, right? And can I get a hip down? Two.” Neil requests. The man looks him over and spares another glimpse at Andrew and their near-identical rumpled suits.

“That’s going to cost you a bit.”

“That’s fine,” Neil says blankly. The man heads over to the freezer section in the back. Neil has grown used to the silence between him and Andrew so he doesn’t the other man to question their location or why Neil needs a butcher’s knife and two goat flanks.

The butcher returns with two carefully wrapped goat legs and places each on the balance. He calculates the total and the price of the knife and the goat before handing the purchase off to Neil. Neil makes his way to the door. Andrew holds it open but otherwise doesn’t bother to help get the purchase to the car.

The next trip is much of the same, Andrew driving and Neil occasionally giving out directions no longer using the GPS on Andrew’s phone. It takes them twenty minutes of absolute silence and nothing but the sound of the car speeding down on the road before they reach their destination. Andrew cuts the engine and watches as Neil carries the contents of the trunk through a wooded area.

“Grab me some gloves,” he asks Andrew.

Part of Neil expects Andrew to stay but whatever sense of curiosity Andrew could muster behind his indifferent façade has him grabbing the box of gloves and following Neil deep through the woods. Neil finds a fairly clear area and lays the goat down on the ground. Neil unwraps the first leg and the large butcher’s knife.

Neil positions the right leg so the inner leg is facing outward and waves at Andrew with the hand holding the knife. Andrew approaches him keeping a steady gaze on the knife. Neil contemplates the leg for a moment. “I need your help. Here, stand by the top and I’ll get the hooves.”

Andrew places himself at the top of the leg and holds it down. Neil moves towards the outside of the leg and places a single hand over Andrew’s. He takes a deep shaky breath.

He plays with it a moment. The familiar weight of knife brings on a surge of memories. There was Lola placing him in front of a cow carcass with an array of knives in front of him. Or his father covered in a plastic sheet cutting through bones one by one, a humerus here, a tibia and fibula there, a femur somewhere else. All with Neil, then Nate or little Nathan once he was old enough, standing slightly back with a matching plastic suit.

Neil twirls the knife in his right hand bracing himself for the impact and strikes the leg. The bone is thinner than a human femur but it takes a few strikes until the butcher’s knife cuts clean through the bone.

“There would be a body where you’re sitting,” Neil says mostly to himself. “But the knee would have to be bent so that the leg wouldn’t move. And the hand would have been placed on her hip. He would have to be positioned further up to hold on properly.”

He motions for Andrew to release the leg and move onto the left leg. He repositions himself in much of the same way. Neil pauses with the knife in his hand. “He’d have to position himself at the knee. Or else he could do it.”.

“The cuts went inward,” Andrew says for the first time. Neil nods.

“Think of it as if you were looking from the back rather than the front. Like its hind legs are like human legs. Left is right and right is left based on where the knees would go.”

Neil traces his hand over the legs again. “The legs were probably positioned near a split, knees bent inward. If he were right-handed it would have been easy to make the cut to the right leg but for the left leg he’d have to grab onto her lower leg instead.”

Neil frowns. “That’s not right. The cuts…the were on her inner thighs. They didn’t reach the front of her legs. If he straddled her lower leg and put her other leg over his shoulder. And struck from the chest...”

“There was another person,” Neil continues, "to make sure she stayed on her side. Or else her hips would twist.”

Neil’s entire body quakes at the revelation. Two people, not one. One to make the cuts the other to hold the body in position. Two people.

“Let’s get this cleaned up,” Neil says completely detached from his own body. Andrew helps. They gather the goat back into the paper sheets and carry everything back to the car and into the trunk.

Andrew leans against the car and lights himself a cigarette. He passes it to Neil who stares at it for a moment before accepting it. Andrew lights his own and takes a long drag.

The silence now is different now, tense and charged with the knowledge that they had made both a step forward and a step backward. At least that’s what Neil assumed Andrew was thinking. Neil stared down at his hands still feeling the curved edges of the butcher’s knife, the smooth wooden texture of the handle, and the shine of the blade.

It’s familiar. It’s home or at least a home that he left behind and never found again.

“Fifteen.”

Neil doesn’t acknowledge the confession or spare Andrew a glance, but the two of them continue to smoke in silence.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Body dismemberment. Andrew and Neil partly dismember a goat carcass in order to figure out something it the case.
> 
> Also it's unfairly difficult to hold someone's body in their side and keep their hips in place and their shoulders parallel to their hips and ankles. Personal experience.


	7. breathe in the memory choked away

**Elkridge, Maryland**

Somewhere laying on ground yards from him was a man, tied and gagged, laid out on a plastic sheet. Even with a gag and duct tape covering the man’s mouth, Nathaniel could still hear his whimpers of pain. Nathaniel, his father, and his father’s men were also dressed in plastic sheeted attire and hospital scrubs underneath. Their shoes were covered in foot covering, their hands with near elbow length gloves, and hair covered in hospital head covers.

His father cradled his face, the coat of blood covering the man’s gloved hands left sticky, slick residue on his face. “Nathaniel, my son. It’s going to be fine.”

He pressed a gentle kiss on his son’s face. Nathaniel trembled, the bloodied knife in his hands barely hanging onto his fingertips. The sharp tang of blood filled his nose and trapped itself in this throat. He let out a shaky breath which grew into shallow pants.

“Boss, I think he’s having a panic attack,” a voice from further away called out but Nathaniel barely registered it. The clear blue eyes, identical to his own were the only points of his narrow focus. The gloved hands around his face tightened.

“Nathaniel, I need you to breathe,” his father commanded. “Follow my breath and breathe with me.”

Nathaniel tried to give a slight nod of his head which was impeded by the hands gripping his face, but his father seemed to understand the same. He was fourteen. This was his first time out with his father’s men and he was having a damn panic attack. The only redeeming part of it was the fact that his tears stayed firmly absent.

His father gave deep even breaths; strong, steady and measured. Nathaniel followed along matching the cadence of the man’s breath. Eventually, the pounding in his chest eased and his breath evened out.

His father pressed another kiss to his forehead. “This is who you are Nathaniel, you are a Wesninki. This is what Wesninski men do.” He cocked his head slightly behind him to where the body laid without breaking eye contact. “That man laying over there, he deserves it. And we’re only giving him what he deserves. Do you understand?”

Nathaniel gave a short nod of his head and let his father press their foreheads together.

“This sickness in your belly, this fear. You need to flush it out. There’s no place for it here.” His father pressed his hands even tighter, the press of his thumbs on Nathaniel’s cheekbones verging on painful. “This is the last time. You have to bury it deep. You can’t let this happen again. Do you understand?”

Nathaniel took a deep breath, the stench of blood still filling his lungs. He pushes it away. “Yes, sir.”

His father gave him another firm searching look, cold piercing blue eyes looking it calmer blue eyes.

“This is the moment you stop being the rabbit Nathaniel,” and with that, he pushed away and turned back to the body.

**Baltimore, Maryland**

Neil picks at his flip phone and swiftly dials a number. The person on the other end picks up after a few rings and responds in an agitated tone.

“What do you want?”

“The other bodies, I need you to look at them again.”

“I already looked at them. The family of the first victim wanted them shipped up from cremation so you should ask around there.”

Neil grit his teeth. That wasn’t an option he was willing to go through with.

“Then get the second body. I need you to look at it.”

“You’re shit out of luck, I already have another body out of the slab.”

“Then get it off the slab and get the other body onto it.”

“Fuck you.”

Neil hears distant movement on the other end of the line like Aaron put his phone down to move the bodies around. Neil a few minutes before he hears Aaron’s footfalls approaching the phone.

“Now what do you want?” He spits the words out.

“The inner thighs, they have slash wounds,” Neil adjusts the phone in his hands. “Should be almost two inches deep, diagonal. Looks like they’re from a butcher’s knife.”

“I guess, it could be from a butcher’s knife.”

“Are they deep, clean? Like the knife cut through on blunt impact and wasn’t used to slice the thigh?”

There’s another pause on the other end as Aaron inspects the body. “Looks like it.”

Neil nods despite the other man not being able to see him and hangs up without a thank you or goodbye to the medical examiner. He tugs on his hair, the pain centering him. It was obvious, clear, but he hadn’t had enough time on the crime scene and the photos weren’t enough to give him a good enough look at that portion of the victim’s body.

Even the case files from the previous murders mentioned only lacerations over the body not deep wounds caused by a butcher’s knife on the inner thighs.

Neil takes a long deep breath, tugging on his hair until the point of pain and works on steadying his breathing. He doesn’t know how long it takes but Andrew doesn’t speak the entire time. After a few more minutes, Andrew finally starts the car and drives away from the wooded area.

Andrew and Neil dump the supplies in the trunk in the dumpster of a seedy gas station just off the highway. Neil spares a glance at the time on the dashboard and quickly realizes that they’ve been gone too long.

He ignores the GPS on the truck again and pulls in the address to the field office up on Andrew’s phone. He’s grown used to the silence between him and Andrew, it’s almost peaceful. The other man hadn’t even bothered questioned their little side trip and took the whole thing with his own patented apathy. But now he could see his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

“You’re not going to ask?” Neil questions.

“We’re doing truth on credit now?” Andrew replies not turning away from the road.

Neil stares out of the window for a long moment without responding, “is that your question?”

Andrew doesn’t respond but Neil doesn’t expect him to. They make their way past the various levels of security past the parking garage and into the conference room that their team had commandeered earlier in the morning. Walker manages to keep most of the surprise and concern off her face but Hemmick immediately rounds the table to his cousin.

Whatever line of questions he has waiting is immediately silenced by the faint expression that crawls its way onto Andrew’s face.

“Neil, I think you might want to see this. You left in a hurry.” She gestures to a few new photos pinned to the crime board. Neil is expecting it but two of the photos still leave a pang in his stomach. He’d tried to ignore it when he originally examined the body but it was harder to ignore not that it was staring in right in the face. A single card, likely cardstock like the last, with a name printed on it in clear block lettering.

_Stefan._

“Like the last body,” Neil says calmly. “Do we know who the newest victim is?

“Mary Stanfield age 53,” Hemmick supplies.

“And how old is her son?”

“What makes you think she has a son?”

“A lot of people in their late 40s and early 50s have kids in college or who finished college. Or even teenagers.” Neil echoes back.

Walker clears her throat, “he’s 27.” Neil nods his head in understanding.

“What does that matter?” Hemmick gives him a look of concern and it’s almost too much. Neil glances away, pretending to focus on the crime board to avoid making eye contact.

“It doesn’t.”

* * *

They end up having to stay the night much to the chagrin of Day who screams at Hemmick for a solid five minutes before Andrew snatches the phone and hangs up on him. Courtesy of Day, they end up in a not so seedy motel in four separate rooms for some reason Neil cannot fathom other than Andrew’s sheer desire to piss off Day.

Neil is no stranger to sleeping in questionable motels and park benches and abandoned houses, but for some reason, he can’t close his eyes. Even his shabby efficiency that he’d been holed up in for about two months offered him more security. It’s something about Baltimore, the air of the city, that puts him on edge.

Neil peels his covers off, grabs a pack of cigarettes from the nightstand, and slips on his shoes.

He’s not at all surprised to see Andrew leaning against the wall of the motel between their two rooms smoking his own cigarette. He looks almost smaller in his dark pajamas and a pair of black armbands that Neil has never seen before.

“If I gave you a knife,” Andrew says as Neil lights his own cigarette, “and gave you a target six yards away, would you be able to land it?”

Neil raises an eyebrow and peers over the mostly empty parking lot and tries to imagine a target almost twenty-five feet away. “It would depend on the type of knife.” He answers honestly.

“You sound confident.”

“Knives are easy,” but they’re not. They are cold and merciless and Neil can remember the exact weight and balance of each and every knife he’s ever held in his hands. Andrew can sense the lie but doesn’t bother calling him out on it.

“You don’t like your brother,” Neil says.

“You don’t seem to know how questions work,” Andrew counters.

“Fine. Why don’t you like your brother?” Neil asks. “I spent an entire phone call yelling at him and you didn’t stop me or defend him.”

Andrew stares up at him, face still blank but more searching than Neil has ever seen from him. “He’s no longer my problem.” Andrew produces a flask from somewhere on his person. He takes a swig and offers it up to Neil.

“I don’t drink,” Neil turns down the flask. Andrew takes another swig and goes back to looking out at the parking lot.

“Nicky won’t stop asking questions but he knows he won’t get anywhere with it so he’ll give up eventually. Renee wants to know but she’ll be subtler about it. And you don’t want anyone to know or you would have said something to them.”

“You know.”

“You don’t have to bribe me to keep quiet,” Andrew stubs out his cigarette. Neil hands him his own unsmoked cigarette. Their hands brush briefly during the exchange and Andrew keeps his eyes on Neil as his lips curl around the cigarette.

“Why don’t you call anyone by their first names?”

The question catches him off guard. Neil has been careful not to vocally address anyone by name, usually speaking directly to people or outright avoiding it if possible. He hadn’t realized Andrew had picked up on it.

“I do.”

“No, you don’t,” Andrew counters. He waves a finger at him. “Oh Neil, I thought we were being honest.”

“I don’t feel comfortable with it,” Neil admits, “it’s weird. Different than working here. It was strictly business. I wasn’t interested in making friends and neither were they.”

Andrew takes it in, “that’s pathetic.”

Neil lets out a hollow laugh. The corner of his mouth quirks up slightly in a ghost of a smile. “You don’t seem to have many friends either.”

“Not a question,” Andrew raises to his feet. “But I’m still not as pathetic as you.”

Neil watches as Andrew bends over to reach for his flask and takes another quick swig. He takes a few measured steps to the door of his room, swipes his keycard and slips inside. Neil lets out a deep breath and realizes he’s crushed his ignored pack of cigarettes in his fist. He had no reason for standing outside of his motel room in the quiet of the night and Andrew had likely noticed.

* * *

 

Neil didn't notice it the night before, but Andrew drives with a sense of aggression and urgency, weaving in between cars and cutting through traffic. The visit to the Stanfield house likely goes the same way as the other family investigations, but Neil decides to opt out and stay in the car with Andrew. They stay parked in front of the house for only long enough to watch Hemmick- Nicky and Renee enter the home before Andrew is speeding away again. He must have looked up the directions before they left the motel because he navigates to their destination without using the GPS and peels into a parking lot easily taking up two spaces. 

"Wait here," Andrew says slamming the door behind him after several minutes.

Neil uses the time to log onto Andrew's laptop and look over the recent additions to the case files. Two murders working together. Looking for women in their late 40s and early 50s with sons in their 20s. It shouldn't ring alarm bells yet it sends Neil's mind whirling. Women his mother's age with sons about Neil's age. 

Women his mother's age with sons about Neil's age. Women his mother's age with sons about Neil's age. Women his mother's age with sons about Neil's age. 

A sharp rap on the driver's side of the door breaks through Neil's concentration. Neil quickly unlocks the door, shuts Andrew's laptop, and places it back in its bag.

"Phone," Andrew holds his hand out. Neil gives him a look of confusion but pulls his flip phone out and places it in the other man's hand. With a quick twist of his hands, Andrew opens the phone and breaks it apart.

"What the fuck," Neil stares at the pieces of his broken phone. Andrew reaches into his shopping bag and pulls out a sleek box, tossing it none too gently onto Neil's lap.

"You're on my plan, unlimited calls and data. I expect you to pay your part of the bill."

Neil gasps at him still not comprehending the last few seconds. "I had contacts on there."

"None you don't have memorized," Andrew says flatly. "Why did you think we were here?"

Neil looks through the windshield at the brightly colored name of the phone service company. No, he hadn't noticed which makes him even more panicked than before. Andrew however, does nothing but keep his blank expression fixed on him almost daring him to protest further. Neil glances at the box with a shiny new smartphone and turns it around in his hands. "I don't even know how to work this." Andrew gives him an unimpressed look.

"Welcome to being a real person," Andrew turns the keys to ignition and peels out of the parking lot.

**Heidelberg, Germany**

“It took a long time to find you.”

Axel paused by the dumpster, trash in one hand while the other held up the lid. The woman in front of him was several years older than him with mousy brown hair, a small frame, and causal yet nondescript clothes.

“It’s been a while…” she paused for him to give her a name.

“Axel.”

“Axel,” she repeated. “I’m Lena.”

She didn’t provide a hand to shake and he didn’t bother freeing up either of his to make the gesture.

“It’s been what seven months,” she said, “seven months all on your own. I expected you back in three.”

“Then you must not have much faith in me,” he tossed the trash into the dumpster and wiped his hands on his apron.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I found you?”

He shrugged. “Not really. It was probably your loud-mouthed brother.” He studied her again more carefully. Her features were a faint echo of his the same curve of the nose, the same arch of the eyebrows. But it was the differences that always made him stand out from her even now with their altered appearances.

“Are you going to ask me to come back?” He finally asked.

She paused for a moment, assessing him much in the same way he had her. “Are you going to come back?”

They both knew the answer to that question. She moved forward with carefully measured steps until she was less than a foot away from him. She leaned in toward his cheek he wasn’t expecting a hug but part of him for a second almost hoped for the shadow of maternal affection he’d never quite known from her.

“Salzburg,” she whispered in his ear, “three weeks.” She moved away from him and the cold an unyielding gaze in her eyes he’d come to know his last few years at home etched itself into her skin. With that, she nodded and made her way out of the narrow alleyway leaving him standing alone in his apron by the dumpster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neil's relationships with his parents. Wow. Great. Wonderful. Parents of the year. As usual this wasn't supposed to updated now. Also let me know if there are typos/spelling and grammar issues.
> 
> Chapter Title: Flesh & Bones by The Sweeplings
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @thepalmtoptiger


	8. too numb to feel the knife in my back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprisingly, no one dies.

**Washington, D.C**

Sometimes momma and papa would let him take field trips, usually with Miss Lola and Mr. Kennedy to drive them places. But the ones momma came on too were always his favorite. He didn’t like when all his father’s men had to follow them around because Nate always knew where they were and it made things less fun. Even if he didn’t recognize all their faces, he always knew where they were. The only thing worse was when people thought Mr. Kennedy was his dad. He didn’t mind too much when people thought Miss Lola was his big sister, she practically was anyway.

She looked kind of like momma; they had the same dark blonde hair and bright big brown eyes that made Nate feel comfortable around like he could sink in their warmth. Nate always had to wear a hat to cover up his hair, or even worse itchy contact lenses, because Papa said he stood out too much. He’d seen kids with bright orange hair, though his was much darker, and other kids with blue eyes in his class so he didn’t understand why papa thought he stood out too much. But Nate knew better than to argue with his papa.

Nate linked hands with Miss Lola while mama and Mr. Kennedy walked a few feet behind them. Sometimes Miss Lola would ask him questions like: “how many people just walked in through the back of the exhibit” or “what was the kid who was looking at the dinosaur exhibit wearing” while he was busy looking at other things. Nate wasn’t allowed to turn his head to look, but he almost always got it right which made Miss Lola and momma proud.

Momma didn’t let them stand too long when they got to the Mall, just enough time for him to get a picture with Miss Lola with the Washington Monument in the background, but papa’s men started to look too anxious which Nate found annoying because he wanted a picture with momma too. But he soon forgot about it as they walked the few blocks, to the Air and Space Museum, with Nate dragging Miss Lola through one display after another.

“Slow down runt,” Miss Lola laughed giving his hand a firm squeeze.

“I’m not a runt,” he responded. It was their usual argument. Miss Lola always made fun of how small he was for his age and he always told her that he was going to get big and tall like his papa. She usually just laughed at him and tickled him until he elbowed her in the side and they got back to what they were supposed to be doing.

He knew he was going to get in trouble if he made it too hard for papa’s men to keep up, but for a little while, he wanted to pretend it was just him, Miss Lola, and momma on an adventure together.

**Baltimore, Maryland**

Neil careful slips the smartphone out of its case and turns the phone around in hands a few times. It’s large, ridiculously large. Neil is at least vaguely familiar with the current phone models but the size of this one is absurd. How is Neil supposed to hold it in his hand without having it slip from his fingers and shatter? How is he supposed to put in in the pockets of his only slightly ill-fitting suit? He doesn’t even know how to use it. He grits his teeth in irritation. Of course, Andrew made it his mission to make everything as difficult as possible for Neil.

It wasn’t Neil’s first real phone – there were stylish thin flip phones and phones that slide to expose keyboards – but most of those were used to keep up appearances and quickly disposed of. Neil wasn’t as interested in keeping up the same level of appearance as he was he was before. The unsatisfied and bitter government agent was so close to the truth that there wasn’t much to hide anymore.

It’s a connection though. It makes things more permanent. Andrew hadn’t called him a runner, but he’d called him a liar. He’d called him out on not being a real person. He’d seen something past Neil’s veneer of blandness that only slipped away when he was focused on his job. It was different than the way the others had tried to coax him into letting them in. It wasn’t a soft request, it was a demand.

As expected Nicky – the name still sounds strange even in Neil’s head – is irate when they arrive several minutes after he and Renee have finished conducting their interview. Even Renee aims a disappointed look at Andrew. The pair has a brief silent conversation that Neil doesn’t bother to listen in on. Neil supposes that if it wasn’t for Andrew’s erratic driving, they would have arrived much later. Either way, Nicky words slip over his cousin like oil and no sooner than the passenger doors shut, Andrew slams down on the accelerator and cranks up the radio to shut down any chance at conversation.

They go through the motions of getting into the Baltimore office – Neil bringing the bag containing his new phone which causes Nicky to raise an eyebrow at both him and Andrew-  and make their way to the conference room that they’d commandeered the day before. As they are walking by Hernandez’s office, the man scrabbles to meet them by his door.

“I just want to give you a heads up,” he starts, “you have some visitors.”

“The victim’s families? But we just spoke with them yesterday? Are they having some difficulties or asking questions?” Renee asks.

Hernandez’s face turns grim, “not those kinds of visitors.” But he fails to elaborate further but the implication is clear.

Nicky’s eyebrows slowly crawl up his face and he turns quickly and walks to the conference room at a brief pace. Renee takes off after him. Neil feels his stomach drop to the floor but he swallows it down. Andrew stares at him, having waited for Neil to compose himself before following his cousin and friend down the hall.

Despite knowing what to expect in the conference room, Neil still feels the ice run through his veins. Jean Moreau is the least intimidating figure in the room despite his towering height so Neil’s eyes brush right past him. Riko and Tetsuji Moriyama take up his entire field of vision.

They’re dressed in crisply tailored suits which is ridiculous enough living on a government paycheck. Neil didn’t take too much time inspecting people’s outfits outside of filing it away to the usual check of his surroundings to look for people who looked out of place or trying too hard to blend in.

As a result, the suits the Moriyama’s wear stick out. Neil’s suit isn’t exactly stylish but it does its job and looks presentable. It was difficult enough finding pants the right length for his height. Andrew must have his hems specially tailored since he was even shorter than Neil, but most of the time around the office, he just wore dark jeans and a dark shirt. Someone must have scraped him into a suit for this trip. Nicky and Renee wore their typical dress pants and jacket. Occasionally donning an FBI issued jacket or shedding down to a buttoned shirt or blouse.

Tetsuji rounds the table slowly but surely, leaning most of his weight on an ornate cane. Neil keeps his eyes trained on the other man’s face and steadily ignores the cane and his obvious limp.

“You must be the team working my old case,” he doesn’t offer a hand to shake.

“We’re working a similar case, yes,” Nicky replies with a bland yet cheerful smile that Neil has never seen on his face before.

“When my nephew told me about the series of murders, I offered to come down here with him to lend some assistance. You seem like an awful fresh team and this is a big case. We wouldn’t want you overwhelmed by things.”

Neil opens his mouth to respond but is cut off by Nicky, “thank you for the offer Mr. Moriyama, but we have your old case files so I think we have everything we need from you.” He gives a sharp grin and for a moment, Neil is reminded of the shark-like Andrew wore the first time they met when he came to dump the stack of case files on Neil’s desk.

Tetsuji’s hand grips tighter on his cane and he gives the group a quick once-over.

Maybe it is a bit vain of Neil to connect himself to the murders but the fact that two of the bodies had been moved from Baltimore all the way to Columbia where he was stationed, two of them had calling cards with his previous aliases, and the last was butchered in a style similar to his father’s it was difficult not to be paranoid.

But the sudden appearance of Tetsuji Moriyama who had been involved in both the last investigation and with his father changes things entirely.

Riko on his own seemed easy enough to handle yesterday, but Neil hadn’t anticipated him bringing his uncle down from New York with him. He’d probably been hiding the older man somewhere to use as a trump card. Neil wants to be rid of the Moriyamas. The entire family is dripped with poison. Neil has no doubt that Kengo Moriyama maneuvered his way into Chief Director of the FBI by less than savory means.

“Looking at your… crime board,” Tetsuji continues, brushing aside Nicky’s comment, “that hardly seems true. Even with my additional information, it appears that you’ve accomplished very little.”

If Riko was a landmine, Tetsuji was a fully loaded gun cocked executioner style over Neil’s head. The only person worse was Ichirou who was more of a well-positioned sniper on a rooftop. Neil is tired of the games and doublespeak and feigned politeness. He has never been a delicate knife wrapped in silk like Renee or even Nicky – it was never in his curriculum. He is a sharp knife’s edge, ready to strike first with precision before his enemies could gain the upper hand.

“Unlike you Mr. Moriyama, I don’t mean to offend anyone,” Neil starts, “but if you’re suggesting that we let you, a private citizen assist on a case that frankly, even you weren’t even able to solve the first time around, I don’t think we can do that. There’s a reason you were honorably let go isn’t there? And if you think your bratty nephew can storm in here by throwing his father’s name around to stick his nose into cases out of his jurisdiction because he has nothing better to do, I doubt he can be any help unless he calls Director Moriyama down here himself to solve the case for him.”

Nicky’s previously genial smile slips off his face into a look of horror. Renee’s jaw doesn’t drop but it is a damn near thing with how wide her eyes go. All around him shock singes the air. Even Agent Moreau who has appeared like nothing more than a backdrop during both encounters is frozen in surprise, his eyes quickly flitting between the two Moriyamas as if waiting for indication of the correct response.

It’s clear who the boss is though because while his mouth tightens into a grim expression, Riko does not respond.

“It looks like our services are not needed here,” Tetsuji stands to near full height, leaning less weight on his case than before, “but should you ever make your way up to New York, I’m sure we could find you a back corner to shuffle aimlessly around in like you’re doing here. Agent Josten, I’m sure you’ll find that comfortable enough.”

”Thank you for your offer, we appreciate the gesture of goodwill,” Renee says simply. Nicky nearly chokes and sends a wild look between Neil and Renee. She holds out a hand in front of Tetsuji who stares at it for a moment before firmly shaking it. If it hurts, she shows no indication.

* * *

 

They leave Baltimore in a hurry. Neil thinks part of it is intimidation on behalf of the appearance of the Moriyamas but he’d like to think his team is above that. In reality, there’s not much more than they can get done in the Baltimore office.

They interviewed all the families and Andrew has spent the last two days running credit cards, social media accounts and CCTV scans for everyone remotely related to the victims, but nothing substantial has come up. All three women had different careers, lived on opposite sides of the city, didn’t so much as visit the same coffee shop or mechanic. The only lasting connection was their ages and the ages and gender of their oldest children.

The profile Nicky flippantly offered up the day before didn’t differ much. Except Neil and Andrew knew that the crimes were likely more calculated than those of somewhat young man with mommy issues. Yet for some reason, while Neil hadn’t brought up the fact that there were likely two murders, Andrew also hadn’t breathed a word to the rest of the team. Neil wonders why but he doesn’t get the chance to corner the other man to ask as they scramble to leave and by the time they board the plane, Andrew has already consumed an obscene amount of Benadryl to get through the flight.

Renee sits next to Andrew during the flight and lets him doze in and out of sleep, the quiet that seems to mark their unusual friendship undisturbed.

“What was that back there?” Nicky slips into the seat next to Neil.

Riko and Tetsuji know who he is, Neil has no doubt about it based on Tetsuji’s parting words. Of all of his father’s employees, of all of the FBI agents he’d exposed as dirty agents, he never came close to laying even the slightest bit of suspicion on Tetsuji Moriyama. He knew better than that. Ichirou would have his head shipped in a basket before he let that stain on the family name. But Riko was young and ambitious, it was easy enough to trap him in his own young hunger for power and have it not reflect as badly on the Moriyama name.

Something is dangerously wrong here, and while Neil has no doubt that the Moriyamas are somehow involved, he knows that he can’t just throw out accusations with no proof. And even if he did, there was no way he could take on Kengo Moriyama and walk away unscathed.

But he can’t tell Nicky that.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Neil replies flatly.

Nicky lets out an exhausted sigh. His face ages several years. “Look, you can’t just…just, don’t pick fights you don’t know if you can win okay.”

He should have just offed Riko when he had the chance instead of trying to gamble his own life with Ichirou. Sure, he would likely be dead by now but he wouldn’t have to deal with the Moriyamas. He knows that the blood on his hands because of the recent murders is nothing compared to what it would be if he hadn’t brought down his father’s empire. But he can see the emergent pattern and it definitely sent some kind of warning out to him that he can’t quite parse out.

“Thanks for the advice,” he knows Nicky doesn’t deserve his dry and unaffected tone, but he’s too drained to care.

Nicky scrubs a hand over his face and runs it through his hair. He doesn’t say anything for a bit but when he does speak, he chooses his next words carefully. “Neil, just don’t mention the Moriyamas to Kevin okay? We didn’t see them.” With that, Nick moves seats and leaves Neil alone by the window.

He’d left the grasp of his father only to be ensnared in the Moriyama’s blood feud and Neil wasn’t sure how he was going to get out.

**Tucson, Arizona**

“What’s this?” Nathaniel asked picking up the folder filled with information. He flipped it open and took a cursory glance at the information.

“Information on my uncle,” Ichirou responded leaning against his desk. “Unless of course, you wanted to go in completely blind.”

“I don’t remember your uncle being part of the deal.” Nathaniel resisted the urge to roll his eyes and took a more in-depth look at the contents. A few words stuck out which had Nathaniel scrunching his eyes in confusion.

“He’s not,” Ichirou responded easily, “I just wanted you to get a good look at the man who’s thumb Riko lived under for most of his life before you start pitying my brother.”

Nathaniel chewed his bottom lip and took a seat so he could lay out the contents of the file before him. “I’d think you wouldn’t want a paper trail.”

“They make paper shredders for a reason. A digital trail isn’t much better. But I suggest you start memorizing. That file is getting destroyed as soon as you’re done with it.”

Nathaniel bit back a reply about how impossible it would be for him to memorize an entire file on a single person in whatever ridiculous time frame Ichirou was giving.

“I don’t know what I’m looking for here.” Nathaniel’s sighed and gave the file a quick run through. “Stabbings, some acid throwers, burned women, more stabbings, arsonists. Some minor crime syndicates my father probably asked him to take down. Looks pretty standard to me.”

“Look back further,” Ichirou prompts. “You’re not looking hard enough.” He tapped his hands on the desk behind him until the noise filled Nathaniel’s ears.

“What, he got a new partner thirty years ago?” Neil shrugged, throwing the file back onto the side table. “None of this is helpful. He covered anything up that could be useful. Why am I looking at this?”

“What was her name? His old partner.” Nathaniel picked the file back up from the side table and took a quick look.

“Kayleigh Day,” he answered. “Is that supposed to mean something to me.”

Ichirou produced another file from his desk. Nathaniel accepted the file. It was a case report documenting the death of Kayleigh Day along with a few obituaries and statements from people who knew her. Nathaniel looked up from the new file. “He killed her didn’t he?”

“Of course not,” Ichirou said standing to full height. From his position on in the chair, Nathaniel felt even smaller in the man’s presence. “Brutally stabbed in her own home while her son slept. He was too young to give a proper testimony even if he was awake.”

“My father,” Nathaniel’s voice came out void of emotion.

“One of his men. Uncle took in the boy afterward, he was so torn up about her death. As if he wasn’t the one who order it in the first place. And that’s the man who raised my brother.”

"What did Riko do?" Nathaniel slowly closed the folder.

Ichirou walked over a few paces towards Nathaniel and plucked the folder from his hands, "that's none of your concern."

"You asked me to kill him because of your uncle but you didn't tell me what Riko did. You want him because he's a liability." Nathaniel leaned back in his chair and fixed a blank expression on his face. "He has Tetsuji but what's your excuse? You're the one ordering a hit on your own brother." 

Ichirou maintained his calm facade but Nathaniel still teased out the edges of his expression to find a weakness, "like I said, that's none of your concern. Dogs should learn when to heel. Do your job."

Ichirou handed the folder back to Nathaniel before briskly leaving the room. Nathaniel opened the folder again and went back to pouring over the information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wouldn't call this a filler chapter, but there's actually some bit of actual murder investigation. Not really but still. Some more character development and revelations. And like no one dies, for once. And some more background. Also, I am greatly attached to baby!Nate. He's so pure so innocent. Training to be a killer but still. The hardest yet most fun part is having Neil simultaneously drag people while mentally freaking out. For some reason this chapter was obscenely difficult to write. There was so much I wanted to say but so much I didn't want to reveal. When will the murder investigation actually pick up?? Maybe when some people decide not to hold up on the team. Oh well, happy reading.
> 
> As usual feel free to point out grammatical errors in this chapter. So many things got shuffled to make it more cohesive, so just let me know. Find me on Tumblr @thepalmtoptiger
> 
> Song title from Judas by BANKS


	9. won't you let me poison your heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baltimore. 10 years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear goodness. I'd like to thank my wonderful beta Molly who has yet to complain about how often I shift narrative pieces around in a chapter or the fact that the more I read and rewrite a sentence, the more errors that there'll be. This chapter was a team effort so thank you!

**Baltimore, Maryland**

Josh wasn’t Nate’s first kiss.

That was Emily Carson sometime in ninth grade at some stupid party he didn’t want to go to but ended up at because Josh was his best friend and neither of them trusted the idiots on the lacrosse team not to cause a ruckus. Nate didn’t want to play lacrosse and he was too short but it was some combination of his speed, his work ethic, and Coach’s sheer desperation, he probably wouldn’t have joined, to begin with.

So Josh wasn’t his first kiss but they fooled around enough times. There were some fumbling starts before, but things picked up sometime around the end of junior year, over the summer, and oozed through the beginning of senior year. Nate was aware of the way the other boy looked at him like Nate was his answer to something. They hadn’t gone “all the way” so to speak, but Josh thought he was in love and Nate was stupid enough to let himself indulge in the idea that he could love him back.

He wasn’t sure of what love was. Maybe it was the way his father and his mother looked at each other when he was younger and the fact that they’d stayed together so long even when some of the stars in their eyes dimmed but the lingering fondness stayed.

Messing around with Josh was strange. It felt good, but Nate supposed that it was meant to feel good. He was a teenager, anyone could touch his dick and it would feel at least moderately good despite the fact he just went through the motions of it when he was alone to get it over with.

Messing around with Josh felt good enough even though the attraction and need for it weren’t there. Usually, Josh initiated it when they were alone at his house – never Nate’s house, his parents were weird about having people over and Josh accepted it – and Nate accepted his advances. And sometimes Nate would catch him sneaking glances and shifting uncomfortably and Nate would decide to put him out of his misery and just go for it. They didn’t tell anyone about it; they couldn’t.

But sometimes Nate would sneak peeks at other boys and other girls just to see if he felt any different, any twinge of attraction. He didn’t. He could tell people were attractive and he could tell when people were attracted to one another but that was it. He never felt the same way. He messed around with Josh, it felt good enough, and Nate pretended that he didn’t know Josh was in love with him.

Nate never liked the sound of Josh screaming. Not that Josh was much of a screamer since his parents were usually downstairs. But when they were alone, Josh had the bad habit of getting too loud.

The duct tape certainly helped.

His father’s men were more distant than they normally stood, hovering just around the edges of the scene. Even his father lingered off to the side while carefully studying his son. Nathaniel considered the knives before him. His father’s signature butcher’s knife was present but Nathaniel skimmed past it to the lighter and thinner knives. He picked one up, doing his standard toss to get a better feel for the weight of it. It felt satisfactory.

Josh wore Superman boxers. They were his favorite and Nate made fun of him for wearing them all the time. “Do you ever wash them?” Nate asked one time while they were lying in Josh’s bed. Josh had just laughed and smothered Nate’s face with kisses.

He was wearing Superman boxers now and nothing else.

Nathaniel took a few steps towards Josh’s supine form. His hands and feet were bound tightly but it didn’t keep him from struggling against his restraints. Nathaniel knelt down carefully. He grasped the edge of duct tape covering the other boy’s face and ripped it off harshly. Josh began to scream. Loud feral screams. Words that weren’t entirely words but were born of desperation. There were pleas thrown somewhere in the middle of the screams.

Nathaniel firmly cupped a hand over his mouth, “you’re just going to make your voice hoarse. No one else can hear you.” His voice was flat, lifeless. At the very least, it wasn’t the cruel teasing voice of his father in situations like this.

Josh looked up at him owlishly. His wide eyes desperate as large fat tears welled up in the corner of his eyes. He was searching, Nathaniel could tell he was searching for his best friend, the boy he’d fallen in love with.

“I want to say I’m sorry,” Nathaniel said in a slow and even voice, “but I don’t think that would make you feel any better. But I’m sorry anyway, you were a good friend. You don’t deserve this.” He bit back the slight emotion that crept into his voice. He didn’t need his father stepping in.

He removed his hand from Josh’s mouth and the boy immediately started screaming again but this time the words were directly aimed at Nathaniel. They were more accusations and shouts of disgust than pleas for his life. The fat tears that welled in his eyes finally fell in large drops until they began steadily streaming down his face.

Nathaniel couldn’t avoid his gaze. His eyes stayed fixed on the boy in front of him. Nathaniel extended a hand behind him and someone handed him a roll of duct tape. He used the knife to tear a piece of duct tape and then carefully placed back over Josh’s mouth, muffling his voice once again.

He tossed the roll of duct tape and twirled the knife in his hand. Taking a calming breath, Nathaniel finally averted his attention from the other boy’s face and got to work.

* * *

Nate pawed through the fridge looking for something to eat. It was late at night, but he hadn’t had much luck trying to get himself to sleep. After last night, he couldn’t even muster a short nap. The lack of sleep hadn’t gotten to him yet, but it had decidedly become a non-issue after the first few months of going out with his father on jobs. But the return of the feeling felt foreign and unwanted.

Finally deciding on an apple, he took a large bite and leaned against the fridge.

“How are you reading that again?” He asked Lola with forced casualness. It was late even for her to be awake but he knew that she’d stayed up for his sake, waiting for him to grow restless from hiding up in his room and to decide to come downstairs. She was sitting on the island with a bowl of grapes and making her way through a book he that was certain she’d already read over the summer multiple times.

“It’s a classic,” she said popping another grape into her mouth and carefully turning the page.

Nate rolled his eyes and hopped up onto the counter. “It just came out this summer. How is it a classic?”

Lola didn’t humor him with a response so he took another large bite of his apple hoping to distract her from her book again. They sat in silence for a bit longer with Nate carefully studying the browning of his apple without taking any more bites. The sooner he finished, the less of an excuse he had to stay down here rather than go back upstairs to his lonely, dark room.

His cell phone decided to ring a few moments later. It was still set to its annoying default ringtone but Nate couldn’t be bothered to change it. He gave the caller id a quick glance before his stomach plummeted and the apple he’d just started to eat threatened to come back up again.

“Hey Sara,” he said into the receiver pitching his voice so it came out somewhat soft and raspy, “it’s kind of late for you to call.”

“Nate,” Sarah’s usually cheerful voice came through strained, “sorry for calling so late. How’s mono?”

“It blows. I actually miss school. I’m tired of just lying around doing nothing.” Lola bit back a choked laugh at the blatant lie and went back to her book.

“This place is still so shitty.” Sarah let out a false laugh that didn’t quite sound right to Nate’s ears. “Actual, I have something important to tell you. Are you sitting down?”

“Yeah,” Nate squirmed on the kitchen counter. He knew what was coming but it wouldn’t be any easier to hear.

There was a long pause on the other end. He could hear Sarah’s steady breath but nothing else. “Still there?” Nate asked.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just…” Sarah trailed off, “Josh didn’t turn up yesterday and he wouldn’t pick up his phone when mom called so she thought he was with you but you know, mono and all and even he’s not that stupid so she didn’t bother to call. So she called Rob instead and he said that Josh stayed the night but Josh was conveniently not there when she asked to speak to him, so we figured Rob was just covering for him or whatever. And she figured that even if she went down the list of the guys on the team they’d probably all say the same thing. Anyway, so mom and dad were ready to bust his ass earlier for missing curfew and then just going AWOL all day. But then he didn’t come home tonight either and mom was freaking out because her and dad thought something was wrong because it was two nights in a row not hearing from him and just being missing all days and they were ready to call the police and everything but…”

Sarah trailed off suddenly, catching her breath and breathing in a few times. Her next words were slow and labored. “But they uh, found him. The police. They found him on the side of the road. All…slashed up. Just everywhere. All these cuts….and they said he probably bled out. Like someone sliced him up and let him bleed out and fucking left him on the side of the road. And they said...they said his body was probably there since last night.”

Sarah let out a choked sob through the receiver, unable to go on. She broke down into full sobs seconds later.

Nate placed his half-eaten apple on the counter beside him and gripped the edge with his free hand until his knuckles turned white. He could hear his own shallow breaths between Sarah’s sobs and the quiet of the kitchen. Even Lola had put down her book to gaze at him no doubt completely aware of the conversation taking place.

“Say something,” Sarah finally croaked on the other end, “Nate just fucking say something.”

His whole body shuddered. The only things grounding him were his grip on the phone and the counter and Lola’s calm, even gaze. “I don’t know what to say.” The tremble in his voice wasn’t forced.

He knew what happened to Josh. He was what happened to Josh. He hadn’t been there for the disposal but he didn’t have to be. He’d already done what was needed of him.

“You know, just fuck this. He’s my brother, he’s my older brother. He’s supposed to graduate and, I don’t know, do something with his dumb life. He’s my brother, And you don’t know what to say?” Sarah let out a small huff and paused to choose her next words carefully. “I know you and him are... that you two…I know alright. So just fucking say something!”

“What do you want me to say, Sarah?” Nate raised his voice, hearing it crack along the syllables in a way it hadn’t since he was fifteen. “I don’t know what the hell you want me to say. He’s my best friend–”

“Don’t bullshit me,” she let out a hollow laugh. Her voice took on a harsh, empty tone. “I know it’s more than that. You might be less obvious about it, but he’s in love with you. You know that. So don’t lie to me.”

Nate broke Lola’s gaze. He looked everywhere around the large kitchen, not finding a single thing that didn’t make stomach churn. He could hear Sarah breathing on the line, waiting for some kind of response Nate knew he’d never be prepared to give.

That he’d faked mono for a few weeks so he could have an alibi for when he killed his best friend? That he’d made is slow and torturous because he didn’t have a choice and that was the way it had to be? That he’d focused on those damn Superman boxers so he didn’t have to hear the muffled cries as loudly?

He’d prepared for so much going in, but he hadn’t prepared for this, he couldn’t.

“Fuck,” he said emphatically. He didn’t know what else to say. “I know.”

And all he could focus on was the sound of Sarah’s choke filled laughter on the other end.

* * *

 Lola fixed his tie.

That was her permanent job description; fixing up Nate when he was a complete mess. She’d been his babysitter, his teacher, his older sister, his confidant. It was weird to think that she was a full thirteen years older than him or that she was younger than he was now when his father decided to take her older brother in and her along for the ride.

“You decide what you want to say yet?” She asked.

“What the fuck am I supposed to say?” He snapped back. Lola pulled his tie more snugly around his neck until it was millimeters from cutting off his airway.

“I know this is your surly phase but don’t take it out on me. This is all on you,” she said calmly. “I thought he’d wait until after your eighteenth but I guess he thought that this was close enough.”

She readjusted his tie again so it no longer constricted his airway and poked at the bags under his eyes. “Do you need some coverup?”

Nate lightly swatted her hand away. “I’ve been home with mono for the past month and my best friend just died. I’m supposed to look like shit.” He defended himself. Fake illness only kept him out of school for so long but it couldn’t keep him away from the school grief counselors and Mrs. Emerson’s request for him speak at Josh’s memorial service today as his best friend. It looked like Sarah hadn’t mentioned anything else about their relationship.

“It’s a memorial service. Look upset. It’s fine. But looking guilty isn’t.” Lola sighed and smoothed her hands over his lapels again.

“I don’t feel guilty,” Nate lied. Lola let out a hum that he knew meant that she was merely pandering to his obvious lie rather than actually believing him. She narrowed her eyes at him and grasped his chin to tilt his face up slightly so that they were finally at eye level.

“Listen here runt,” she said the old nickname almost affectionately with only the barest of mocking in her tone, “you can feel guilty all you want, but that doesn’t change a thing. He was your boyfriend or best friend or whatever. It doesn’t matter. He’s dead now. You killed him. And now you have to go out there and hug his family and grieve with them and then at school make look like you’re slowly moving on with your life but that you’ll never quite get over it. But people will expect that and maybe feel a little sorry for you and inspired by how well you seem to be taking it. Then you’ll go off to whatever college you haven’t decided on yet and get yourself a blank slate so you never have to talk about it again. That’s just how it goes for you. Tough luck in your case runt, but we all did it. Get it?”

Nate shook his head from her grasp and looked away. That’s why he’d hoped for something closer to graduation, something he would only have to hold the guilt close to his chest in front of people for a few months, weeks even. Then he’d have a whole summer to somewhat privately pull himself together before school in the fall. But of course, his father never made it easy for him. Lately, he was The Butcher first and his father later more often than not. Nate looked at Lola and took in her firm but understanding face, a constant grounding presence that had stayed with him as he grew up and instantly felt himself fill with bitterness.

“You know, I’ve always wondered about you and Romero,” Nate starts barely registering the ring in his own ears. “When you join the family, my father makes it out as this huge thing. You have to plead loyalty and cut ties with anyone on the outside who might interfere with your dedication to the family. Romero only had you, right. So how are you still alive?”

Nate knew enough of her story. Romero ran to his father, seventeen with nowhere else to go carting along his thirteen-year-old sister. His dad, for once in his life, showed some compassion and let them stay. Romero joined the family shortly after and his father let Lola finish school and officially join the family when she got older. Lola was the only person Romero ever cared about – they had no real family to turn to –  and yet he’d managed to get through his initiation without his sister being carted off in a body bag.

“Our old social worker,” Lola replied, “that was his person. I don’t think it was all that tough for him though. He got off pretty easy. Probably enjoyed it.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“It was your mom. She figured that she needed someone to help her change your diapers and someone to keep an eye on you when you started school that looked less suspicious than your dad’s thugs. And...your dad listened to her and that’s why I’m here.” She patted Nate’s cheek affectionately. “He’s not all that much of a monster sometimes.”

“He’s always a monster,” Nate finally met Lola’s eye and her expression shifted into something almost wistful and far away that he couldn’t understand. Lola gave him a small crooked smile that didn’t touch her eyes.

“Then what does that make you, little Nate?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooooow. That was a lot. I actually broke into tears, gave my partner the rundown, let them get teary eyed, and then just threw it at my beta.
> 
> Okay, so this is likely the last flashback we'll have from pre-runaway Neil since this was more or less the catalyst for the whole thing, the turning point so to speak. I'd love to do more with little Nate since I love him and as some of you have pointed out, he's a damn creepy child, but also I don't think there's more plot or character development wise to show from that point in Neil's life. There might be something tiny with Mary but we've more or less seen enough of her as Nate's mother.
> 
> For anyone who wants to go back and read through Neil's childhood chronologically:  
> Chapter 8, Chapter 3, Chapter 7, Chapter 4, and bonus Chapter 7 (end)
> 
> The song for this chapter is Poison by Vaults. You can find me on Tumblr @thepalmtoptiger


	10. resting our eyes, ‘til we feel no more

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Salzburg, Austria. Columbia, South Carolina.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shout out to my lovely beta. This chapter wouldn't exist without you. Thanks everyone reading this fic, it's an experience. And thanks again for reaching over 100 comment!!???! That's amazing.
> 
>  
> 
> Song: Raid by Wafia (I've been waiting for the chance to use this song. You guys have no idea. And if anyone is interested in a Spotify playlist of the songs used so far, let me know.)

**Salzburg, Austria**

He hadn’t picked a new name yet. It wasn’t necessary since he was only passing through. His dialect of German made him stick out more than he would like but he was lucky enough that most people about his age spoke English and he could easily be mistaken for a student touring Europe while taking a gap year with his large backpack and fresh young features.

Salzburg wasn’t exactly a small city and his mother decided to be cryptic about where they should meet up. Either he was going to be left hunting her down or she was going to hunt him down again. Neither option left him very comfortable. He had no reason to listen to her summons. He didn’t owe it to her or his uncle or anyone else. He wondered briefly how his life could have been different had Mary decided that he was more important than the business arrangement sealed by the marriage of a Wesninski and a Hatford. Instead, she’d more or less left him with Lola his entire childhood and adolescence; Lola who was likely still back in Baltimore. He tossed the remains of his drink into a trash can.

He shouldn’t have come at all.

**Columbia, South Carolina**

Andrew was right about Neil having memorized important numbers rather than put them in his contact list. He still has to get another burner phone for business purposes, but he immediately sends a text out to all the important people. His phone immediately starts buzzing almost immediately.

“What the hell is this about?” Agent Brownings screams on the other end.

Neil sighs. The call quality is, unfortunately, sharper than that of his last phone. “I upgraded my phone.”

“There wasn’t anywhere in your credit activity. Did you buy it cash?”

“If I wanted to secretly buy a new phone on a real phone contract, would I bother texting you from my new number? You can track my signal if you want. I’m still in Columbia if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Neil paces the floor of his small apartment, there’s not much space to move but it drains some of his agitation. He can tell that Browning is fuming but that was basically the man’s default attitude, so he isn’t all that bothered. “I hear you were in Baltimore recently. You didn’t stop to visit.”

“I was on a case.”

“You get the urge to visit some old friends?”

“What friends? They weren’t my friends to begin with and we flushed them all out anyway.”

Neil lets himself slump onto the floor. In the three months that he’s spent in his Columbia apartment, it’s still unfurnished leaving him a temporary figure. Even his apartment in Baltimore was equally unfurnished even after spending almost a year and a half there. It was a place to stop and sleep between work. Even Nicky and the others were the closest approximation of friends he’s had in years and they still didn’t feel real to him.

“I was talking about me and Wilson, but I guess that fits too.”

“Wouldn’t want to see either of you two anyway,” Neil snaps but it’s missing most of his bite.

“Fine,” Brownings says after an extended moment of quiet. “but don’t think of leaving the state again without letting one of us know.”

“You’re not my superior anymore. It’s none of your business. Hernandez knew I was there. Wymack knew I was there. Wymack was the one who cleared me to leave, so don’t try to intimidate me. I gave you guys all the information that I had and you still couldn’t do anything with it while I was stuck in Quantico. I gave you almost a year and a half of my life on that case because you guys couldn’t figure out how to do your own jobs.”

“You didn’t want to testify. We gave you an easy way out and you decided not to take it. That was your choice.” Brownings’ voice rose to its familiar tremble. “We’ll let you be Wymack’s problem, but if you ever come to this city again without clearing it with me, we’re going to have a problem. Understand?”

Neil understands. Brownings ends the call.

Not being able to snap his phone leaves Neil unsatisfied. He still owes Andrew the price of the phone and whatever portion of the bill he is expected to pay. He knows the phone is absurdly priced and unlimited calls and data didn’t exactly sound cheap. He paid close to nothing for his apartment so it wouldn’t be too much of an expense but the thought of splurging any money on anything but necessities still made him twitchy.

Neil looks down at the phone in his hands and turns it over a few times. It’s the most permanent thing he’s let himself have and it was forced on him by someone else. He could have told Andrew no. He could have thrown the phone back in his face. He could have told him to fuck off but he didn’t.

Neil wants this.

It’s a horrible idea. Neil stands and moves to the kitchen. He digs under the sink until he finds the packet duct taped to the underside of the cabinet. The other is in the frame of his bed.

The contents this packet are simple and Neil is very lucky to have been able to keep them. Neil flips open the phone to check for messages and finds none. It’s still at 40% charge which is good enough for the time being. He moves onto the fake ids and passports, holding them up to the dim light and checking for the correct watermarks and lettering. He spills out the cash. There are ten hundreds folded in half and bound together by a rubber band, ten of them total. He counts out each bundle individually, secures its rubber band and moves onto the next bundle until all the money is accounted for– ten thousand dollars in cash. He secures it back in its proper position.

The other packet in the frame of his bed contains a very detailed coded list of contacts and account numbers to offshore accounts. He moves across the room and pries the packet from its hiding place. He double checks the account numbers which he already has memorizes and the coded names and numbers to the contacts. He considers decoding them and changing he cypher just in case anyone else could have figured it out. He gives a long sigh and places the contents of the packet back inside and restores it to its place.

He is extremely lucky to have them.

They’re his way out under the possibility some of his father’s men decide to come looking for him or Ichirou stops indulging him and comes for his head. It’s not much, but it’s enough to give him a head start.

Neil circles the short apartment and it registers to him for the first time how tiny and confining it is. His eyes drift on their own to the smartphone still laying in the center of the floor. Neil purposely looks away but there’s not much for him to look at anyway.

* * *

 

Andrew is stationed on the side of the building. Neil has yet to visit or find out exactly where it is, but it’s mostly out of sheer stubbornness that he doesn’t ask for directions. If you look like you know where you’re going, that you belong there, people won’t ask questions.

Neil is almost surprised to find that Andrew has his own real office not one of the hideous cubicle offices on the other side of the building. Neil isn’t jealous but the sight of A. Minyard printed on the door annoys him more than it should.

He gives a short courtesy knock on the door before allowing himself to enter. Andrew’s usual look of indifference takes a sharp edge at the disturbance. He knows that he’s made a very wrong move in entering Andrew’s office unwanted and unannounced. He closes the door but keeps his body no more than an the length of a stride away from the door. Against his ingrained instincts, he doesn’t survey the room and instead keeps a steady gaze on Andrew and forces his body to ease out of the tension that usually comes with encountering a new environment.

Andrew doesn’t seem to adhere to the professional Bureau dress code, he’s wearing what seems to be a black t-shirt and black armbands. Then again, most of the other analysts Neil passed on his way here were dressed down in jeans and general civilian clothing.

Once it’s evident that Andrew isn’t going to speak, Neil decides to cut to the chase. “You didn’t leave me your number.”

The only indication of Andrew’s surprise is a slow blink.

“You didn’t leave you a number. Or any way to contact you. You said wanted me to pay the price of the phone and my portion of the bill. But all of that is in the contract information that you didn’t bother to give me.”

Andrew gives him another slow blink accompanied by a measured look up and down. “You walked all this way to ask for my number.” It doesn’t sound like a question.

“You handed me the phone still in the phone in the box and didn’t bother to leave your number with me,” Neil shrugs.

“Forty a month, due the fifteenth. Check or direct deposit. The phone is seven hundred. You can pay for it at once or in installments.” He’s curt and to the point. Neil nods and digs his fingernails into the palms of his hands, but otherwise, the rest of his body stays relaxed. He expected the high price but hearing it is different.

“Are you busy tonight?” Andrew asks suddenly.

“Is that your question?” Neil lost whose turn it was in the truth game when they were in the parking lot of the phone store but he’s sure than none of those counted. After the incident outside the woods, it should be Andrew’s turn anyway.

“Don’t play stupid. It’s your usual look but let’s try for something else this time.”

“It’s a waste of a question,” Neil says. It’s a Friday night so he had half-baked plans of either dodging group night at the bar or taking an ill-advised run through the neighborhood. “I’m free,” he decides on mostly surprising himself.

Andrew gives him another measured look up and down. “We’re going out tonight. Family bonding.” He tilts his head to the right slightly. “Except last time Aaron got drunk and tried to punch Erik and Erik broke his nose instead. Now we have to deal with Nicky sad texting him all night and Kevin drinking his weight in vodka with no one to carry him home.”

It’s probably the most Neil has heard Andrew speak at once and also the most he’s revealed about his family dynamics. Yet it’s still delivered in a flat voice as if some minor family feud hadn’t ended in broken noses and cutting off communication was nothing more than a slight inconvenience. Granted, Neil’s version of family feuds included gunfire, knives, and being chased through two continents trying not to end up killed. This sounded more normal.

“Fine,” Neil concedes. “I’ll go.”

Andrew gives him a dismissive wave of his hand and turns back to one of the several computer screens on his desk. “Try looking less frumpy. Ask Reynolds for help.” Neil isn’t too bothered by the dismissal, he doesn’t expect much more from Andrew and he knows he’s not the type to show up on the Bureau website or any press release.

* * *

Asking Allison for help includes less of actually hunting her down as it does her appearing on his desk rather than standing by it much like she’s invited herself to do the last time she paid him a visit.

“I hear you went to visit the monster,” she begins leaning further back on his desk, “he said you’re invited to one of his horrific family get-togethers tonight and promised not to make any interns cry for the next month if you show up not looking like you raided the discarded pile at Goodwill, so it looks like you’re stuck with me lending my services.”

Neil opens his mouth to protest but shuts it again at Allison’s sharp look.

“I don’t think you understand, sad crying interns leaving after a day of working here because some people seem to enjoy making undergrads and high school kids break down into tears for fun reflects badly on us. So I need you to agree to play dress up for the next hour so I don’t have to deal with angry parents and school internship programs or whatever the hell they call themselves. Got it?”

Neil’s not sure if he agrees, but Allison doesn’t seem to care. The next moment he’s resigned himself to following her as she knocks on Wilds’ - Dan he reminds himself though the fact that she’s technically his superior makes it more difficult to process - door. He half expects Allison to barge in like last time, but she merely pokes her head in.

“Hey Dan, the new kid is taking an extended lunch break with me,” she explains, “departmental hospitality stuff.”

Neil can’t see Dan’s face but he can hear her steady tone. “Don’t break him.”

“Promise,” it sounds fake to Neil’s ears but once again she’s moving and he finds himself following after her in a blur of frustration and confusion. Years ago he might have fought back but it’s clearly not how she expected to spend her lunch break either so he decides to make things as quick and painless as possible.

Malls aren’t Neil’s favorite places. It might make it easier for him to blend in but it also made it easier for anyone to follow him. Allison moves with purpose and determination even though he can hear her grumble about how much easier online shopping is several times as she dodges people in the crowds.

They enter the store and Allison makes a beeline to the men’s section. Neil pretends to look through the racks with her but instead scans the store anxiously.

After a few minutes, she has a stack of clothing in her hands and she’s holding it up to his chest critically. It’s all black and could easily be considered clubbing clothes.

“Trust me, it’s easier this way.” She thins out the pile of clothes before shoving a handful of clothing into his hands. “Let’s hurry this up.”

He knows how to dress efficiently so the process goes much faster than it would otherwise. Allison is sharp in her critiques and occasionally disappears and reappears with another article of black clothing in the short time it takes him to get dressed. It’s far more painless than he would have expected and she seems as eager to get through the process as he does.

They finish quickly with a few pants that are far too tight and a few shirts that are just loose enough to satisfy. She asks his shoe size and quickly grabs a pair of chunky looking boots and tosses them at him.

They get to the checkout counter and the clerk quickly scans the clothing. Neil sees the price of the purchase slowly inch its way up and the knot in his stomach grows just as quickly. As the final total appears onscreen, Allison holds her hand out for his debit card. He watches her insert the chip, click at the options so he doesn’t have to put in his pin number, and forge an inaccurate approximation of his signature. Moments later, she’s handing him back his card and practically dumping the bags in his arms.

“Trust me you’ll need all of those if the monster keeps you around,” she says on their way out of the mall. Once they’re in her car she gives him a contemplative look. “Thanks for taking one for the team. He’s a nightmare to work with but it looks like he gained a sliver of a soul. Or you’ll end up like Matt.”

She aggressively peels out of the parking lot. It seems everyone at the Bureau, save Renee, doesn’t put much stock in the rules of the road. Regardless, she gets them back to the office in perfect timing. She gives him a brief smile as they exit the car, less biting and sharp than her usual smiles. “Good luck tonight kid.”

* * *

Neil gets a text late in the evening from an unknown number with only a time in the little message bubble. He suspects who it is, but he asks anyway. The message he receives back and the confirmation from Nicky’s number tells him enough.

He should be more concerned about Nicky giving away his phone number freely, but Neil was the one who stormed Andrew’s office to ask for his phone number. It was mostly about the payment plan, but even Neil knows how the encounter came off.

Sighing, he gets dressed in his clubbing clothes. He chances a look at himself in the mirror just long enough to make sure he doesn’t look like a complete zombie. Moments later a text comes in asking for his address. He quickly types out the address a few blocks from his own that he usually gives Renee. He has a brief moment of panic trying and mostly failing to get his phone into his pocket before it buzzes again.

_Your real address_

He stares down at the words.

He chews on his bottom lip waiting for the words to morph into something more nonthreatening. It takes him several minutes, his phone going blank every minute or so while he considers the text. His eyes dart from the sink to the bed frame and then back to the phone in his hands. With shaking hands, he types out the address to the apartment building.

They must have driven to the address he normally gives Renee when she drives him home late at night and while waiting for his response because he gets another text message saying that they’re waiting in the street for him.

He finally manages to shove his phone into one of his pockets and locks the door to the apartment. Even in the dark, Neil can tell the sleek black car is the same one that picked Nicky up from the bar the other night. Neil knows Nicky lives with Erik rather than Andrew but he knows it’s not the time to ask questions. And given Nicky’s tight-lipped smile, he must have also gotten the message not to say anything about the shabby neighborhood Neil decided to live in.

It’s a tight fit in the car, clearly not intended for five adult men - no matter how short Neil and the twins were. Yet no one complains when Andrew speeds off to whatever club constitutes family bonding time.

**Salzburg, Austria**

Guns were never his father’s thing, but he learned to train with them nonetheless. Most of the time it was Lola or one of his father’s goons that took him out onto the family range for target practice. Sometimes his father made an appearance, but only he and Lola were allowed in his knife handling lessons and the older man took a greater interest in those. His mother never took much of an interest in any part of his education except for a passing interest in how he was doing in with his schoolwork.

It was much more important for him to learn how to pay attention to his surroundings and know if he was being followed. That’s why when he turned the corner into the alley he was prepared.

The shot hit her in the left shoulder.

She was right-handed and unless she wanted to bleed out all over the alleyway, she had to use her right hand to slow the bleeding. The shot made it more difficult for her to reach the gun she had on her right side. There was the possibility it was in her left jacket pocket instead, but that would still require her to move her hand away from the wound on her shoulder and it would give him more time to fire another shot.

He took a few measured steps towards, gun still cocked, watching to see if she would chance a grab for her gun or reach for a knife somewhere on her person. She was on one knee leaving the possibility of a knife positioned near her ankle and there was also enough space under the sleeve of her jacket where a sheath could be sewn into the lining – either would be easier for her to reach than the gun he could clearly see on her hip.

He stopped a little less than two yards from her.

“If you’re going to shoot me again, then get it over with,” she said far calmly for someone with a gunshot wound in her shoulder and another point directly at her.

“If you’re going to try to stab me, then get it over with,” he countered. “Or you could try for the gun and I could just shoot you anyway.”

She lets out a choked laugh and he can see her grip on her shoulder tightened. Her face twisted into something he couldn’t quite register and he can feel the swell of anger building inside of him. “I’m still trying to figure if your father’s sadism rubbed off on you or not. But I’m beginning to lean towards yes.”

He knew it was bait, but he still moved quickly and landed a firm kick to her side.

She landed roughly on her injured shoulder. He took a few paces back and circled around her carefully so he was out of the way of her legs, making it harder for her to sweep his feet out from under him. Her face contorted in pain but she still managed better than most to conceal it.

“Oh junior, you’re just like him,” she spat out.

He clutched the gun tighter to keep his hands from shaking. “Like I learned anything from you.”

“Aren’t you worried about the police here _Abram_?”

The name caught him briefly off guard but he recovered quickly. “You’re more armed than me _mother_.” He hadn’t exactly thought of it when he fired the shot at her. He deeply hoped that he could claim self-defense as an alibi. She noticed his moment of hesitation and narrowed her eyebrows. “This isn’t the best neighborhood.” He couldn’t come up with much else but he hoped it would suffice.

“I’m still bleeding out over here.”

“It’s a shoulder wound, you’ll be fine,” he fired another shot at her other shoulder slightly more than a graze but enough to rip a loud swear from her and to keep her occupied.

He moved closer again, taking the moment of shock to hastily grab her gun from her side, to check the safety, and to wedge it through the slightly unzipped portion of his backpack. He tucked his own gun in the back waistband - a dangerous spot in case she wanted to fight back, but she looked more like a disgruntled cat than anything else right now and he was willing to hedge his bets.

Still, he patted her down for other weapons. She had knives - of course, she had knives - stashed in the same places he’d suspected. They were the same places he had his. He went over her again for one final check before helping her to her feet. She sagged slightly but she was able to stand.

Her own backpack was stashed at the mouth of the alley and he grabbed that too as they moved out of the alley way onto the empty street.

“Oh, so you’re not going to let your own mother bleed out in an alley.”

“It’s a shoulder wound,” he said stubbornly. “Besides, if you really wanted me dead, you would have either killed me already or dragged me back home in Heidelberg.” As he said the words, he understood the truth of them. He might be younger and quicker, but she was still a Hatford, trained in blood in almost a similar way as him, but not in his father’s particular brand of sadism. Still she had years more experience than him. If she had truly wanted him dead, he would be. And for his entire week and a half he’d spent in Salzburg, he hadn’t seen even the slightest sight of his father’s men. He still didn’t trust her, but he knew that she’d likely come on her own.

“No hospitals,” she said. Her voice was still clear but noticeably weaker.

“I’m not that stupid. And don’t collapse on me.” He heard a small tilling laugh from her. In the quiet of the street, it filled his ears. He was still alive.

Maybe he could consider his life a late birthday present from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mary in Germany - You are my son and you will follow me.  
> Neil in Germany - *Completely caught off guard and too shocked to say much else.*
> 
> Neil in Austria, a few weeks later and absolutely Done - Shoots his mom. More than once.  
> Mary in Austria a few weeks later - Surprised but not also surprised that her son actually shot her.
> 
> A few more greatest hits.  
> -Andrew checking Neil out when Neil visits his office while Neil is focusing on being as nonthreatening as possible.  
> -Allison completely annoyed that she has to go spend her lunch break shopping (really online shopping is a million times easier) but she won't complain too much if it means Andrew won't make a mess of her interns. She's not really the same spoiled princess that she is in the books but she left a high paying job to work for the Bureau. And she's damn confident in her abilities  
> -"You walked all this way to ask for my number."
> 
> As a note, I know exactly how 10 grand looks like folded in hundreds and held together by rubber bands and exactly how much room it takes out. So much of this fic is from my own dubious knowledge of things. I'd really not explain.
> 
> And also considering I babble so much in the comments and there people who might sneak a peak in the comments, I'll be making an effort to do less of that. I will still be answer to comments though. Just less in depth.
> 
> For more of my meta and babbling, you can find me on Tumblr @thepalmtoptiger and hit me with an ask or five.


	11. i like my whisky with my lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Denver, Colorado.  
> Columbia, South Carolina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter would not be possible without my amazing beta. Please head trigger warnings.
> 
> So sorry for anyone who got an notification earlier. Accidental posting.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @thepalmtoptiger

**Denver, Colorado**

“So Nathaniel,” the therapist started, “sorry, I hear you prefer going by Nate. Is that right?”

He doesn’t respond.

The therapist wasn’t deterred though and clicked their pen against the clipboard. “Your friend…Isaac brought you here because he was worried that you were developing a dependency on alcohol.”

He wondered idly if the therapist would stop asking him questions or questions phrased as statements if he refused to respond. It worked well in group.

“I’ve heard that you’ve had some difficulty in group discussion. Do you want to talk about that?”

_No._

“Well, you’ve certainly taken a big step in coming here. It must be especially difficult without your family around, but you still have a strong support system with your friends. They must really care about you.”

Ichirou only cared about his investments and his family name. The money required to drag him here for a few weeks to ensure that he would be able to carry out his job was just a small dent in the other man’s pocket. And evidently a special form of torture even his father would have never inflicted.

“Well, you went through your early stages here very well. Miles better than most of our other patients here, but I can understand your friend’s concern about...potentially habit-forming behaviors and how intense grief can trigger those behaviors.”

He tightly dug his fingernails into the palms of hands. The therapist clicked their pen again against the clipboard at a steady cadence.

“So, I believe that when you’re willing to open up about that grief, we can talk more about healthy coping mechanisms. Just remember that over the next few weeks, you will have a ready and available supports system here and when you go back home. Does that sound good Nate?”

**Columbia, South Carolina**

Clubs are messy. Bodies together in tight heat while alcohol numbs inhibition and music pounds through every area. The dark corners and shadows and the frantically flashing lights make staying aware more difficult.

During most daily activities, Neil has a firm grip on what to filter out as background noise and what to keep track of as a potential threat. The trip to the mall with Allison was more taxing because Neil was forced to keep pace with Allison’s single-minded efficiency than because of his surroundings. The mall wasn’t necessarily void of people, but Friday during lunch hour was less busy than a weekend or evening trip leaving Neil with some semblance of control of his surroundings.

Eden’s Twilight on a Friday night qualifies fairly low on Neil’s list of areas that are relatively easy to survey.

The number of drinks on the tray they receive from the bar is alarming. Even more alarming is how quickly Kevin knocks back several shots while no one appears concerned. Despite knowing little of Erik, Neil finally understands the difficulty wrangling Kevin’s large frame home safely in his absence.

Neil almost sighs in resignation when he realizes that part of the task will be relegated to him.

Andrew doesn’t necessarily slam the shot of alcohol in front of Neil, but he places it firmly in front of him with clear intent.

“I don’t drink,” Neil says simply.

Andrew raises an eyebrow slightly and studies Neil. A lot of their time is spent in silence, Neil notes. But it’s more purposeful than the awkward stretches of time during car rides with Renee or when Nicky bounces his knee to keep from adding anything more to a dead conversation. Andrew acts with purpose, deliberately and thoughtfully. It might make other people uneasy, but Neil respects it. He might seem demanding and abrasive, but barring their first strange interaction, he’s never done more than offer things to Neil and then leave a window for Neil’s acceptance or rejection.

It’s no different this time. Andrew picks up Neil’s offered drink and knocks it back, maintaining as much eye contact during the action as possible. He places the empty glass back on the tray and leans back in his seat.

“My turn,” he says.

“You wasted your turn asking if I was free tonight,” Neil counters. Andrew narrows his eyes slightly as if not expecting Neil to remember things exactly that way. Neil had dodged being accused of taking an extra turn with careful phrasing concerning the phone bill. As innocuous as it was, Andrew had offered that information up freely but Neil wasn’t sure whether or not he was going to call Neil out on his trick.

“Fine, your turn then,” it’s not what Neil expects from Andrew, but he merely nods in confirmation.

Neil takes his time considering his question. He could ask Andrew anything. He could finally find out why Andrew silently agreed to keep quiet about the night in the woods or the possibility of an accomplice in the murders. He could even ask why Andrew decided to ask him to the club.

“Why did Nicky tell me not to say anything about the Moriyamas to Kevin?”

Andrew’s posture and expression barely change but Neil can tell that the question comes unexpectedly.  

“You’d have to ask Nicky that.”

“But you know. And Renee knows. And it’s not as if I talk to him anyway, Renee is the one who handles expenses with him.” Neil doesn’t break eye contact. “So why?”

Andrew’s hand twitches slightly as if he’s holding back from reaching for another drink to avoid the question further.

“It’s not my business to tell. Either ask Kevin yourself or ask Nicky. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you everything already.” His keeps his voice even more level and disinterested than usual but Neil can see the extra effort in the act. “Looks like you wasted your question,” Andrew says with finality.

Neil knows not to push it further. He realizes for the first time that he might have miscalculated and pushed things too far. Andrew’s relationship with Nicky appeared mostly one-sided, and Andrew remained unresponsive to Neil almost yelling at Aaron over the phone. And even at the airstrip and throughout their trip, his response to Kevin was dismissive and mainly resulted in making the other man Nicky’s problem to work through.

For the first time, Neil realizes that Kevin is the only non-family member who is regularly included in what was apparently known as a regular family outing. He couldn’t be another cousin based on how openly and shamelessly Nicky flirted with him on the airstrip even if it was to disarm him.

Somewhere Neil had misjudged their relationship.

He decides not to push it further and the silence between them looms for the first time even with the deep bass thrumming through the club. Neil lets his eyes wander around the crammed bodies. Nicky, Aaron, and Kevin are lost somewhere in the mass and the flashing and strobing lights strain Neil’s eyes if he lets them stray too much.

“Why don’t you drink?” Andrew decides on several minutes later.

They must be asking unanswerable questions tonight.

Neil bites his bottom lip as he works through his answer. The question feels more like a test to see how truthfully Neil will answer given how the rest of the day had gone.

“I went through a rough patch when I was in Arizona. After my mother died.” He edges as close to the truth as possible. “I drank more than I should for a while and a…friend thought it would affect my life and future job opportunities, so I spent a few weeks in Denver. They said that I could either keep things up or I could quit. So I stopped.” Neil shrugs his shoulders.

He’s leaving out details but that’s all Andrew needs to know and that’s all he’s going to get. Andrew nods in acceptance.

“Is this an issue then?” Andrew vaguely gestures at the table in front of them. Neil is confused before he realizes that Andrew is referring to the wide array of discarded glasses and drinks littering the table.

He hadn’t felt the pull of temptation at the bar or even at the club. The temptation had never really been there for him in the same way he knew it existed for other people.

Neil had enough grief and guilt over the years to know how to block it out for hours at a time without having a bottle pressed to his lips. When he was with his mother, he had that safety of knowing she was there to watch over him when he went through the motions and remained only vaguely aware of his actions over long periods of time. She never said anything about it and neither had he.

There was his way of blocking things out and there was the way his father taught him. Sometimes neither had worked and he needed to find something that would.

“It’s not an issue,” Neil decides on.

Andrew believes him. Or at least he doesn’t push the issue further which leaves Neil thankful. He’s less thankful when moments later a drunken Nicky crashes into him.

“Neil!!”

Even though Andrew and Neil had to speak over the loud club music, Nicky’s large shout directly in Neil’s ear shuts everything out. The other man clings to him in an aggressively affectionate hug. Neil leans away slightly in discomfort at the sudden physical contact. Nicky shoves himself away moments later with an offended cry.

“Andrew!” He twists to inspect his opposite shoulder. “What the hell?”

“Personal space, Andrew says. Most of the glass on the table were shot glasses but there were a one or two larger glasses of whiskey that Andrew been nursing earlier while everyone else was aggressively downing shots. He’s holding one of those larger glasses, its contents now clearly splashed over Nicky’s shirt.

Nicky looks ready to protest but Andrew places the glass back on the table and reaches for one of few still full shot glasses. Nicky slides further away.

“I just wanted to get to know Neil better, you’ve been hogging him to yourself all night.”

Nicky angles his body to face Neil more directly but maintains his distance. “So…men or women? Or gender nonspecific? Or are you more open to those things?”

Neil blinks, “What?”

He can see Andrew quickly lose interest and begin reloading scattered drinks and glasses onto the tray.

“Well, I’m gay,” Nicky starts, “I’ve mentioned Erik a few times. Right? He’s amazing. Aaron is very tragically straight but he finally found someone willing to put up with his attitude. Kevin is married to his job. And Andrew…”

Nicky pauses to look up at his cousin, who’s finished clearing up and is lifting the tray to his shoulder. They stare each other down for a few seconds before Andrew turns to return the tray.

“Anyway,” Nicky diverts, “so where are you?”

“I’m not anywhere,” it comes out sounding more like a question than Neil intended. It’s mostly true. Though he had some bit of sexual experience outside of being a fumbling teenager, that sense of attraction had never quite been there.

“Oh. So haven’t found the right person not anywhere. Or not anywhere at all. Or not anywhere but open to experiences. Or…” Nicky loses his train of thought for a moment.

Neil clams up. It’s not something he’s really thought of in a long time. Occasionally having sex and not really feeling anyway about it or not feeling any intense romantic attraction wasn’t something he thought about daily or even monthly. He spent most of his late teens and early twenties more concerned with his survival to give it much thought. Anyway, those few encounters usually left his mother screaming at him about carelessness and safety so, after a while, they hardly seemed worth the effort.

“Sorry,” Nicky jumps in noticing Neil’s silence, “I’m not trying to proposition you or make you uncomfortable or pry. Sorry if I am though!” Nicky lifts his hand as if to pat Neil’s knee but thinks better of it at the last moment and pats the space between them. “I just wanted you to know that if you’re ace or demi or bi or whatever else that it’s fine and you have someone to talk to! And if you’re not comfortable saying anything about it, then that’s fine too!”

Neil nods, still too overwhelmed by the experience to say much else but Nicky smiles at him encouragingly which must be enough of a response. Andrew and Aaron time their reappearance appropriately tugging along a half-slumped Kevin.

“Roland let him order at the bar,” Aaron, the twins aren’t that difficult to tell apart even together after spending enough time with one or both of them separately, says.

Nicky’s smile drops and he scrubs a hand over his face in defeat.

As expected, the second Nicky and Neil approach, the twins let go of Kevin and drop him into their arms. Maneuvering from the club to the car is tough, but the two of them manage to get him into the front seat and buckled in. Andrew’s expression reads even less pleased than usual, but he doesn’t say anything as the rest of them pile in.

They arrive at a modest-sized house in an almost quaint suburban neighborhood. Again, Nicky and Neil are tasked with getting Kevin out of the car and onto the couch. When they finally deposit him there, Nicky unceremoniously drapes an afghan blanket over him and slinks away to some other part of the house.

Aaron is nowhere to be found – likely passed out somewhere else in the house – but Andrew is in the kitchen drinking a glass of water. He nudges another glass of water to Neil who studies it for a moment before taking a long sip.

They stand together against the small island in the center of the kitchen with only a dim light above the illuminating the room. The house is silent and still, a sharp contrast to the club only minutes before. Neil feels like laying his head on the cool counter. He settles for drinking the rest of his water and leaning against the counter.

“Kevin has the couch,” Andrew breaks through the hush, “Aaron is in his old room. Nicky has Kevin’s room. I don’t trust you and Aaron not to kill each other and Nicky gropes in his sleep.”

It takes Neil a moment to realize he’s talking about sleeping arrangements.

“It’s too late and I’m not driving back and forth,” Andrew drawls slowly.

“I could take the chair,” Neil doesn’t let his voice drift much louder than a whisper as he remembers the chair in the living room, “it reclines.”

Andrew is a little bit closer than he remembers but he doesn’t mind. “Too good for the floor?”

“You don’t have a third bedroom,” it comes out as less than a question than Neil intended.

“Mine,” Andrew says. “We don’t have a fourth.” He adds on.

Neil hums in understanding. They must be standing closer than before because Neil is suddenly met with Andrew’s hazel eyes. It doesn’t seem like something he would forget easily but they’re much clearer than the last time they were close enough for Neil to notice them. Andrew is also noticeably shorter than Neil. He knows that the twins are short - he’s stood both to next of them enough times - but the few inches Neil has to glance down maintain eye contact feel more pronounced now with how close together he and Andrew are standing.

“Aaron has his old room,” Neil clarifies, “Nicky has Kevin’s current one. Kevin is on the couch. You have your own room. The recliner doesn’t count. But the floor does?”

“Nicky and Aaron are passed out by now.”

“There’s not much room in the living room,” Neil hedges.

Andrew doesn’t say anything but the question hangs in the air.

Andrew moves to put both glasses in the sink and leaves Neil by himself in the kitchen. It isn’t until he’s left standing alone, that Neil realizes how close they’d drifted during the short conversation. Or at least Neil assumes it was short, most of it occurred in a bit of a haze. Not the kind Neil is used to, but something that settles comfortably into Neil’s bones.

Neil really could take the recliner.

Neil follows the trail of light up to Andrew’s bedroom. Andrew’s already changed – barefooted and wearing sweatpants and the familiar armbands he wore the night Neil ran into him outside the motel. He was wearing a long-sleeved shirt at the club like he normally has every time Neil has seen him, so it’s impossible to tell if he normally wears them under his shirts.

What’s more interesting is the large pile of blankets he holds in his hands. A lot more than Neil would need if he slept in the recliner.

They don’t speak. Andrew rests the pile of blankets on his bed and grabs Neil a t-shirt and extra pair of sweatpants. They don’t say anything when Neil goes to the bathroom to change out of his new club clothes, throws them in the hamper with Andrew’s own clothes, and digs around for an extra toothbrush.

When he comes back, there’s a neatly and much larger than expected mass of blankets and pillows on the ground next to Andrew’s bed. Andrew’s bed is in the corner of the room with the bedroom door in clear sight. Andrew positioned Neil’s makeshift bed in a similar arraignment where he can clearly see the door when he lies down.

There’s not much to say. Andrew flicks off the lamp on the nightstand slipping the room into near darkness. If Neil listens, he can hear Andrew’s breathing from the bed above – steady but still too fast to already be asleep.

Falling asleep has never exactly been easy for Neil. It has less to do with new surroundings, he’s fallen asleep in myriad of places and not all of them provided much comfort than it does sleeping without the sound and knowledge of another person close by standing guard over him during his most vulnerable moments. It's been a few years since he's last had the feel of security that came only from the presence of a person nearby to ground him during sleep. Andrew is a kind of steadiness Neil hadn't expected from their first meeting. His bed and body are backed into a corner and even with Neil’s lower position on the floor, part of Neil wishes he could still watch Andrew’s back while they slept as Andrew did his, some kind of mutual exchange. But they both still have watched over the door which breeds a sense of solidarity Neil isn't expecting.

He's reading too much into it, but between leaving the club late after a day at work and the number of new surroundings he'd blindly gone into today, tiredness bleeds into his bones.

He's gotten too comfortable the last few months.

Still, it takes Neil several breathing exercises and a few minutes to mentally catalog the floor plan and obstacles and to plan possible escape routes before he lets himself almost fully relax, but it's Andrew’s steady breathing and watches over the door finally that edges Neil to calmness as he steadily falls asleep.

* * *

It takes a few hours before Neil hears stirring from above. He’s always been a light sleeper, something ingrained in him from a young age so the shifting movement immediately wakes him. He keeps his breathing slow and even as Andrew carefully slips out of bed. Opening his eyes slightly, he lets them adjust to the dim light and watches as Andrew rounds his blanket pile, almost tiptoeing to the nightstand right outside of Neil’s line of vision. Neil tenses for a moment and mentally runs through everything on he saw on Andrew’s nightstand; a book, a lamp, a charging cell phone, and a pack of cigarettes.

Neil has no idea what's inside.

Before Neil can let his body coil defensively and reevaluate his escape plan, Andrew grabs something from the nightstand’s surface and cautiously exists the room, still moving as silently as possible, and shuts the door softly behind him, leaving Neil alone in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Whisky by Marian Hill  
> It was nearly Down by Marian Hill which also fits the mood of the fic really well, but I couldn’t get a lyric that I liked.
> 
> This was a filler chapter. Kind of. With some vague flirting. Could you even call it flirting? I mean there’s some parallels thrown in there and shit but bad flirting. Nicky’s drunk. Kevin’s a heavy weight that still manages to drink too much. Aaron is still disdainful of everything especially a drunk Kevin. Did I mention flirting. That’s all I’ve got. There’s also a Spotify playlist of the music mentioned in the fic that I have no idea how to add in the notes so bug me on Tumblr for a link.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr for rambling and meta, there's a lot of meta, @thepalmtoptiger (special tag: kings of the killing)


	12. shut your mouth and run me like a river

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lazy afternoon. The morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title - River by Bishop Briggs

**Ellicott City, Maryland**

Nate plastered his face between the pages of his summer reading book hoping that the contents would soak into his brain through some bizarre form of osmosis.

He hated summer assignments. There was no point to them other than to give students busy work so that they didn’t run around and get themselves in trouble during the break - which was ridiculous because Nate was almost certain that he wasn’t the only one to wait until the last full week of vacation to complete all of his assignments. Nate let out a muffled groan and rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling.

“Told you you should've done it earlier.”

“Shut up,” Nate groaned rolling onto his back. He let himself fully stretch out on the ground. He’d grown accustomed to the soreness in his muscles but that didn’t mean that he was completely unaffected. He had to be extra careful not to pull anything because practice with Lola and Jackson feel ten times more difficult when he got back.

“You should have done that shit a month ago,” Josh called out from his position on the bed. Nate reached over to grab his paperback from its spot next to him on the floor and launched it at the wall behind Josh’s bed. It hit with a light thunk and Josh shifted to the edge of the bed to glare at Nate. “What the fuck,” he hissed.

“If you were a good friend you’d let me copy your English assignment,” Nate said tersely. Josh snorted and threw the book off the side of the bed with enough precision that it landed on Nate’s stomach.

Nate splayed out on the ground. He was already exhausted with the extra training sessions and his internship at his father’s company. It mostly consisted in office business meeting and out of office business meetings with coffee runs and copy machine wars dispersed throughout. Nate didn’t know if it was worse sitting through boring slideshow presentations or listening to people beg their way out debts while bloodied and bruised.

Regardless, trying to finish his summer reading ranked fairly high on his list of worst life experiences.

Nate stared down at his book again and tried to make sense of the words on the page. Coming to Josh’s house had the ultimate goal of Nate having to do as little of his summer reading assignment as possible. Yet somehow it turned into Josh refusing to help him and Nate staring at his assignment even more lost than usual. He would call it a waste of a trip but it was a welcome relief to get out of the house.

Maintaining friendships outside the business was as important as it was dangerous. People were liabilities - things that could be leveraged against you and weaken you - but that thin shield between the inside world and the outside world was invaluable. You couldn’t link yourself solely to your associates. Being involved with only people in the industry was dangerous. Linking yourself to the outside helped blend in and preserve the image of normalcy.

Nate didn’t understand the intricacies but the second his father loosened the reins, Nate firmly grasped at the moments where he didn’t have to be the son of the Butcher and didn’t let go.

It was nice to be a teenager.

“So,” Josh drawled a few minutes later, "are you almost done yet?"

"Not really,” Nate said, "I would be if you let me copy yours."

“No.”

“Then stop distracting me,” Nate fired back. Usually, Nate could convince Josh to go along with most of his ideas if he asked even though Josh almost looked embarrassed before finally agreeing. Nate looked back at his notes and book before admitting defeat.  He’d have to either do his own work later or find a way to convince Josh to share his.

“You’re still thinking about how to get me to do your work,” Josh said. Nate wrinkled his nose but didn’t bother to deny the accusation.

“I’m taking a break,” Nate announced finally sitting up. He would have to squeeze in time to work on it later but his head was swimming too much to look at it anymore. Nate stretched to touch his toes and felt a slight twinge in his left quad. He already dreaded having to deal with evening practice.

Josh swung off his bed and hurried towards the television and worked on setting up the game console while Nate did the last of his stretches and put his homework back in his backpack.

“You didn’t ask me what I wanted to play.” Nate grabbed the beanbag chairs from the corner of the room and placed them in front of the television. Josh shot him a quick glare but otherwise ignored him.

When Nate’s character on screen died for the tenth time, he put his controller down and sunk deeper into the beanbag. The music for the selection screen started up again but neither of them moved to select a new character. Nate turned to him to him and found Josh turning his controller over in his hands.

Nate nudged him with his foot and went back to picking his own character before Josh finally stirred and refocused on the game.

“So your dad’s finally letting you play,” Josh said casually as his fighter rushed through a complication combination move.

“As long as my grades are fine and I keep up with my internship,” Nate said stretching the truth.

The game announced player one as the winner and a screen asking if they wanted to continue or change fighters appeared, “your dad is really pushing this internship. Do you even want to go into finance or whatever?”

“I’m fine with it,” Nate shrugged. Josh didn’t respond as they scrolled through to pick new fighters. Nate flopped between two before finally settling on one that specialized in distance attacks.

“But he still won’t let you live on campus.”

“It’s a distraction.”

“You didn’t even ask him.”

Of course Nate hadn’t asked his father about living on campus. Even if it was only during the week, it still cut into his practice time. Lacrosse was difficult enough to wrangle his father into letting him play for the school and even that had taken his mother stepping in in order to get him to agree. He only had so much freedom and he knew better than to push the limits of it.

“There’re enough gross sweaty idiots on the team. Just because you’re fine with it doesn’t mean I want to live with any of them.”

“Wow.”

“We’re a team. We don’t have to be best friends. We just have to trust each other on the field. Living with them just ends with drama and affects our game.”

Josh didn’t bother with a response and Nate finally won his round. Usually, there would be more side chatter but Josh remained silent and Nate didn’t see any reason to bother him if he didn’t feel like talking anymore.

Getting tired of the silence and the steadily growing tension radiating from Josh. Nate finally put his controller down and craned his neck to see the number on the alarm clock next to Josh’s bed.

“I have to leave soon,” Nate lied. He sent a sidelong glance at Josh who still hadn’t spoken. Nate nudged him with his foot again. “I have to leave soon.”

“Fine,” Josh said with no inflection in his tone. Nate furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance but didn’t move. When it became clear that Josh wasn’t going to say anything else, Nate stood up to collect his things. The game’s music droned on in the background doing nothing to ease the tension. Josh sat unmoving in the beanbag chair as Nate grabbed a stray pen that had slipped out of his bag. When he couldn’t find any other excuse to linger the room and Josh didn’t seem ready to get up any time soon, Nate stood in the middle of the room, bookbag slung over a shoulder and impatiently shifting on his feet.

Once when he was younger, a few officers - FBI or local police, Nate wasn’t too clear on the particularities - visited their home to talk to his father. Nate’d made the mistake of snooping in his father’s office that day and as the door creaked open and his father stepped in with two police officers, Nate quickly ran and hid in the room’s only closest to wait them out.

Nate wasn’t sure how long he sat in there as they orchestrated a strange dance around each other. When the officers finally left, Nate stayed in there until his father turned out the light and then even longer to make sure he was completely out of sight.

Nate knew patience. He hated it.

Making a snap decision, Nate made his way back to the television and swatted in front of it, close enough to block Josh’s vision but not close enough prevent the other boy from getting up.

“Are you done being weird yet?” Nate asked.

“I thought you had to go.”

“My ride can wait.”

Josh gave him an annoyed look and shoved at Nate’s shoulder to push him back a few inches, “look, if you just need help with your work then don’t pretend to stick around like we’re friends.” Josh wormed out of the chair and grabbed both chairs to move them back to their spot against the wall.

“It’s not like you helped me anyway. If you don’t want me around then say so.” Nate fished his phone out of his pocket and sent a quick message to Lola to pick him up. “My ride’s almost here,” he lied again.

“Cool.” Josh wiped his hands on his shorts. His eyes danced around the room, looking everywhere but at Nate. “You free again soon?”

“Don’t know. Internship stuff.”

“...maybe tomorrow?”

“Uh, yeah  Text me.”

The two of them stood rooted in their respective spots in the room. Nate pressed down on the volume buttons and his phone buzzed in his hand. He checked his phone and pretended to read an incoming message.

“Ride’s here. Tomorrow right?”

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

Nate tugged on his hair and waited for Josh to say something else. The air was still awkward and now that Nate said he had to leave, he couldn’t think of a good excuse to stay any longer - not that he was even sure that Josh wanted him to stay any longer.

Nate gave a curt nod and crossed the room to Josh’s door. He faltered for a second before giving a rushed goodbye. He barely heard Josh’s reply before he closed the door and quickly made his way out of the house.

Nate sent out another text to Lola telling here that he’d be down the road from the house before shutting off his phone and turning down the road as far away from the house and the awkward tension in Josh’s bedroom.

**Columbia, South Carolina**

Neil’s not hungover so he wakes up early. When he stands, he glances down at his blanket nest wondering  what to do with it. He should at least try to be a decent guest, so he folds the blankets and places them and the pillows at the foot of Andrew’s still unmade bed. He checks his phone briefly to find a few unread texts from Matt last night one telling him to be careful while out with Andrew’s lot, another asking if Neil wanted to join him and Dan out for hungover brunch, and a last saying that Neil could bring everyone else along if they wanted. Neil briefly responds to the second text that he’ll try to make it before heading to the bathroom to clean up.

He splashes some water on his face avoiding looking at his face in the mirror as much as possible and digs around for a spare toothbrush. He nabs one still in the packaging from under the sink and uses the toothpaste on the counter.

When Neil makes his way downstairs, he doesn’t expect anyone in the kitchen but surprisingly Nicky is awake and sitting on a barstool drinking coffee alternating between eating a bagel and playing with his phone.

Nicky notices Neil enter the kitchen and glances up from his phone to give him a tired smile, “morning.”

“Morning,” Neil hears himself reply instinctively.

“Kevin’s still passed out. He’ll probably wake up in the middle of the afternoon. Aaron will be up soon and pretty grouchy and Andrew’s out on the porch smoking. ” Nicky concludes his morning report and takes a long sip of coffee. “Grab yourself anything to eat. Kevin usually stocks the kitchen but Andrew snuck some food that’s not Bran Flakes or granola.”

Neil isn’t one to turn down an offer of free food so he prepares himself a single cup of coffee. He digs around to finds some whole grain bread, Kevin’s influence, and strawberry jam and pops the bread into the toaster.

Neil is half tempted to bring a cup of coffee out to the front porch for Andrew but quickly votes against it. Andrew wasn’t in the room when Neil woke up and with Nicky’s update, it’s safe to assume spent most of the night smoking on the porch.

It’s obvious that Andrew likes his space. Just offering up the floor of his bedroom for Neil to sleep in was unexpected. Neil taking Andrew up on his offer was even more surprising. Neil couldn’t tell how much of it was genuine gesture and how much of it was a test but it was significantly different than the night in Baltimore when Neil found him smoking outside and they ended up talking. Andrew was frustrating on multiple fronts but Neil wasn’t ready to reexamine the previous night while standing in the other man’s kitchen. He wasn’t even entirely sure what happened in the kitchen the night before, the whole experience was alarmingly surreal.

He’d have time to work through it later.

The toaster pops and breaking Neil’s train of thought. Neil grabs his toast and slathers jam over both pieces. Leaning against the counter, he takes a bite of his toast and looks up to find Nicky studying him carefully.

“I’m glad he asked you out. With us I mean.” Nicky says, “I’m getting too old to keep up with you guys anymore. Soon I’ll be in my mid-thirties.” Nicky scrunches up his nose at the thought.

“Where did you sleep? The recliner was empty when I got down here.” Nicky casually prods, taking another sip of his coffee. Neil’s own coffee bubbles to a stop and he fumbles around the kitchen for some sugar to give himself time to come up with an answer.

“Andrew’s floor,” Neil responds casually. He stirs some sugar into his cup. It’s a new thing he’s picked up, a small indulgence he’d mostly forgotten.

“That’s interesting,” Neil expects Nicky to continue but he leaves the statement hanging in the air, staring at Neil with a thoughtful expression on his face, fully engaged and considering. Even with the new information, Nicky’s face says open and slightly passive, as if waiting Neil out for new information or giving him time to let his guard down.

Neil stares him down and takes a deliberate bite of his toast.

Neil has always had some qualms about Nicky. He’s almost suspiciously nice and laid back and usually playful and joking when not actively working a case. He didn’t give Neil the same queasy unease as Renee but the lingering suspicion of all law enforcement still made it difficult for Neil to trust him despite working alongside him for several months.  

“Thanks for coming out with us and agreeing to be on Kevin patrol,” Neil didn’t agree to babysit Kevin but he doesn’t bother to correct Nicky, “we don’t go out much anymore, getting old and being real adults and all that, but it’s still nice every once in awhile.”

“I don’t go out much,” Neil responds. Nicky bites back a laugh.

“I could have told you that. It took ages for us to get you to leave the office. I still can’t tell if you’re a workaholic or just shy.” Nicky tilts his head to the side slightly, “nevermind. I think we ruled out shy.”

Neil wonders how long he can play at being dumb but he’s willing to take his chances, “I don’t like bullies.” Nicky gives a slight laugh at the response.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Andrew that...happy. Excited? To bring someone out. I mean happy and excited for Andrew.” Neil blinks owlishly at Nicky’s words. “I guess he must really like you. You’re a cutie so at least he has good taste.”

Neil pauses a second too long before responding and Nicky’s smile stretches wide and he gives Neil a wink, “who else do you normally bring along,” Neil says going for the safest approach.

“Dan’s come with us before. Renee every once in awhile. Oh and Matt once.” Even with their almost mutual ring of acquaintances, Neil is slightly surprised to hear Dan and Matt have gone clubbing with Nicky and his family. “Andrew and Aaron join us for drinks at the bar occasionally and Aaron knows Matt and Seth from the precinct,” Nicky explains sensing Neil’s confusion, “and sometimes Andrew gets bored enough to come to the bar.”

Neil nods and stows away the information. He thinks the conversation has died down but Nicky speaks again a minute later.

“About last night,” Nicky starts, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with my questions.” Neil expects Nicky to look contrite, which he would to most people, but there’s something about the way he holds his shoulders that immediately catches Neil’s attention.

“It’s fine,” Neil says tracing the rim of his mostly finished mug of coffee, “I’ve gone through agency interviews.” Not in the way Nicky would assume but it hardly matters.

“Still, it was supposed to be a fun night out and I’d feel really shitty if I made you uncomfortable.” Even with the honesty in his eyes and voice, there’s still that hold on his shoulders that Neil can’t trust.

Nicky is well versed in interview techniques. He has experience in dealing with both families and suspects. He knows when to use openness and sincerity and when to resort to hardness and manipulation. Neil isn’t upset with the way Nicky steered the conversation, he’d suspected that there was something more to inviting Neil out last night and that his question game with Andrew wouldn’t be the crux of it.

Nicky wasn’t nearly drunk last night as he tried to let Neil believe when he’d drunkenly draped himself over Neil and offered himself up as a confidant. He knew that Neil would not likely come to him for advice but he’d still opened up the option. Neil already assumed that there was something going on between Kevin and Andrew, and despite Andrew shooting down that theory the night before, Nicky nudged Neil into something.

Neil wasn’t interested in dealing with whatever game Nicky or cousin his were playing at right now.

“That’s all then,” Neil says drily.

Nicky looks older, he’s in his early thirties but he usually covers that up with an aura of brightness, but now the veneer slides off. “You don’t trust me,” he surmises not sounding the least bit surprised.

“What makes you think that?”

Nicky shakes his head, “other than your obvious trust issues?” Nicky lets out a sigh and turns his phone around in his hand a few times. “Workaholic, shy, or trust issues. The first and the last probably. Am I right? Look, we work together. You have to trust me on the field and I have to trust you. But,” Nicky pauses carefully, “if you don’t trust me outside of work that’s fine. I want to be your friend. I haven’t been lying about that. Maybe between last night and just now I pushed a few lines and I’m sorry. I’ll try not to put you in that position again.”

“I don’t know what you’re apologizing for,” Neil says briskly.

Nicky lets out a groan and places his head in the palm of his hand, “You think I’ve been playing you this whole time. I get it. I want to be your friend but Andrew is my cousin. Even if he won’t appreciate it, I’m still going to look after him.”

Neil’s head hurts as he runs through Nicky’s implication. He’s been ignoring it since it first came up, choosing to toss it aside as a simple joke, but he still doesn’t see the basis of Nicky’s thought process. Neil and Andrew’s convoluted version of an almost friendship consisted mainly of Andrew having near blackmail material on Neil and Neil doing his best to keep Andrew from using it.

Whatever happened last night after the club was a fluke and if Nicky wanted to read into it as confirmation of him and Andrew not so subtly sneaking around then so be it.

Neil wasn’t unfamiliar with sex and attraction, at least when it came to clear signs from other people, but Andrew’s interest was solely on picking apart what he could find out about Neil and while Neil could see how Andrew could be considered attractive, he’d never felt sexual attraction before so it hardly mattered.

He understands Nicky’s concern and the need to look after a family member but the other man jumping to conclusions isn’t Neil’s fault and he’s not going to take the extra effort to clear things up.

Neil pours the dredges of his coffee down the drain and cleans up his breakfast dishes without responding to Nicky. He doesn’t know how Nicky takes his lack of response but Neil still needs the extra moments of silence to compose himself.

Aaron wanders into the kitchen rumpled and with a sharp scowl fixed on his face. He maneuvers in a near daze and Neil neatly dodges him as he scavenges for something edible for breakfast amongst Kevin’s supply of food unsuitable for anyone other than a health nut. Nicky chirps some cheerful morning greeting to his cousin but Aaron only responds with a blank stare.

Nicky’s attention turns back to his phone and Neil stands awkwardly in the kitchen. He could go back upstairs to Andrew’s room but being alone in the other man’s room makes him vaguely uncomfortable as does sitting in the living room with a passed out Kevin still on the couch.

He decides to risk the porch.

He can sense Nicky’s gaze follow him as he works around Aaron to make another cup of coffee for Andrew. He pauses for a moment, coffee in hand, remembering Andrew’s disgusting coffee order from Baltimore and dumps an excessive amount of sugar and creamer into the mug as well. He avoids making eye contact with Nicky as he makes his way to the front door.

Andrew is sitting on a chair with his laptop precariously balanced on his knee. There’s an ashtray on the small table in front of him but the porch is littered with half-finished cigarettes. Neil carefully enters Andrew’s line of vision. Andrew doesn’t look up or speak but Neil places the mug next to the ashtray on the table. Rather than taking the other lounge chair next to Andrew, Neil sprawls out on the front step and stretches his muscles out. He’s sleep in worse places than a bedroom floor, but it still feels nice to sit in the midmorning sun and loosen his muscles.

They don’t speak but Neil feels a smug sense of satisfaction when he hears a quiet slurp indicating Andrew accepted his offer of coffee. It’s almost peaceful in a strange why Neil knows not to get used to.

“Ask about the body already,” Andrew says in a raspy voice, “I can hear you thinking about it from here.

“What makes you think I’m going to ask you about it?”

“That’s a waste of a question Neil.”

“That’s not a real answer so that doesn’t count as a real question,” Neil is thankful that Andrew can’t see the way his face twists but he’s sure that the other man is aware of it anyway.

“You’ve been throwing away questions for weeks,” Andrew goes back to typing on his computer **,** “that’s your fault, not mine.

“It’s a sign of good faith,” Neil responds honestly.

Neil knew he’d been giving away more information away to Andrew than he’d been getting back. Normally he’d be uncomfortable with the unequal exchange but he’d hoped that display of transparency would abate Andrew’s suspicion but he’s beginning to question how well that plan was going.

“Andrew Joseph Minyard, age 29. Identical twin, Aaron Michael Minyard, engaged to Katelyn Rebecca Soo. Cousin, Nicholas Esteban Hemmick, age 32, engaged to Erik Klose. Mother deceased, father unknown. Estranged from uncle Luther Hemmick and aunt Maria Anne Hemmick. I could go on.”

“You can find out everything from Nicky. You’re not getting anything out of this.”

“You shouldn’t have access to personal employee files. For a federal agent, you don’t seem to care about following laws. But like I said if you want to know something just ask.”

“You try too hard to blend in for a man without any secrets. Too bad about that smart mouth.”

“I’m not a math problem.”

“I’ll still solve you.”

It’s a bold statement that Neil should have seen coming but it still takes him slightly by surprise. “I’m not asking about the body,” Neil says, “if you want to know about it ask yourself.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Find a more creative way to blackmail me then.”

“You’re not worth the effort.”

Neil lifts himself off the porch steps and brushes by Andrew to take a seat on the empty chair next to him. He has a better view of the subdivision with all it’s neat trim houses, near identical in every way. It’s hard to imagine Andrew in a place cherry-picked from a 1950s idealized version of the American Dream. But they’re sitting on Andrew’s porch overlooking a neighborhood of trim lawns and happy middle class families.

“Why did you join the FBI?”

Andrew’s keystroke falter and from his peripheral, Neil watches as Andrew moves his coffee mug to make room on the small table for his laptop, “some scouts found me around graduation and I turned them down.”

“You’re here now.”

“It was something to do,” Neil finally turns to face him. Andrew’s face is as blank as usual as he stares across the street at the too same houses.

“Most people would think it’s exciting.”

“Adrenaline junkies and narcissists. Nicky is just an idiot with an overactive sense of justice.”

“So which are you?”

“Question,” Andrew turns his head to face Neil and narrows his eyes slightly. “Neither. Bad communities get overexcited about teaching troubled kids useful trade schools. I went beyond the curriculum.”

“And you got in trouble,” Neil surmises. Andrew doesn’t say anything but he continues to give Neil a searching look. “I got myself in trouble too. I had a bad habit of running away.” Neil taps his cheek.

Andrew slowly reaches out a hand towards Neil’s face. When Neil doesn’t protest, he holds Neil’s chin lightly and turns it it from side to side to inspect his face. His eyes are drawn to a faint scar running from Neil’s temple and curving down the underside of his jaw. He turns Neil’s face to the other side and releases Neil’s chin to tap a half-moon scar on his cheek. “You cover this up.”

“I don’t like people asking,” the light application of makeup Neil used to hide the scar had smudged off during the night and Neil didn’t have makeup to cover it up.

“A runaway. Boring.”

Neil fights back a genuine grin, “I thought you said that I was interesting.”

“Not worth the effort.” Andrew pushes Neil’s face aways and removes his hand. He turns back to the row of houses across the street. Neil can sense the lie but the sense of panic that would normally hit him is absent. He can’t quite place the feeling but it buzzes under his skin.

“But you’re still trying,” Neil tilts his head back to let the early morning sun wash over him.

* * *

They remain peacefully quiet until the scrape of Andrew’s chair against the porch breaks the silence.

“We need to go,” Andrew’s terse voice cuts through the air and Neil sits up and turns to face the other man almost immediately.

Andrew’s stance is more defensive than usual. The hand holding the laptop is trembling not from the strain but from barely concealed anger made even more evident by the tightly clenched fist of his free hand. There’s a slight tension to his jaw and his shoulders bunch closer to his ears. It’s only on sheer instinct that forces Neil to immediately trail after Andrew as he enters the house.

The volume of the television in the den is low. Andrew gives the room a quick glance before progressing to the kitchen.Nicky is still on his phone with a fresh cup of coffee when they enter the kitchen. He gives them a questioning look glancing briefly at the laptop Andrew is holding in one hand.

“We’re leaving,” Andrew says simply, his tone unchanged despite his obvious anger.

Nicky frowns, “leaving to where?”

“New York,” Andrew gestures vaguely with his freehand in the direction of the living room where Kevin is still passed out on the couch, “idiot over there is passed out and we need to go now.  Borrow some suits out of Kevin’s closet and get Aaron on clean up.” Andrew turns sharpy on his heel and leaves Nicky and Neil standing in the kitchen. Neil recovers first to recover and quickly follows upstairs after Andrew.

Neil’s never been slow to act. For years, his whole life had been move, move, move and rush, rush, rush. Yet, everything about this case has left him off balance; the state of the bodies, the location of origin, the ages, the presence of an accomplices. Nothing feels right and everything feels so familiar.

Andrew stutters slightly at the door when he sees that the makeshift bed has been cleared up but he recovers quickly. Neil and Andrew grab two duffel bags from Andrew’s closet and begin stuffing several items of clothing and necessary toiletries. Neil barely registers that he’ll be wearing all of Andrew’s clothes until Andrew presses the second duffel bag against Neil’s chest.

“How long ago?” Neil asks but his train of thought drifts further. “How many?”

“Two days and only one. Renee just heard from Moreau.” The they weren’t planning on telling us, goes unsaid. Neil lets his eyes drift to Andrew’s face. There are clear bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, but the rest of his face is tightly drawn and closed off.

Riko, and Tetsuji presumably, found the next victim in his jurisdiction and didn’t bother to let them know. Neil isn’t surprised in the least but the thought still makes him clench his teeth. They were annoying enough in Baltimore but they would been insufferable in New York. Neil immediately understands Andrew’s sense of urgency.

“The suits won’t fit and they’ll be wrinkled but you’re used to that,” the words don’t fully register to Neil until Andrew gives him a quick  glance up and down and pressed the bag more firmly against Neil’s chest. “Let’s go.”

Andrew snaps up his personal laptop and grabs his phone and charger from the nightstand. He stuffs the supplies in his own bag while Neil gives another glance around the room for anything they could have missed and follows after Andrew. Neil remembers his own cell phone unplugs it from the charger. Assured he has everything, Neil makes his way downstairs, when he stumbles across a hushed argument between Nicky and Aaron.

“Don’t tell him,” Nicky hisses.

“He’s going to wake up eventually,” Aaron snaps back Nicky and fixes his cousin with scowl. He holds up another large black duffel bag close to Nicky’s face, “just fucking go. I’m the one who has to deal with him anyway.”

It’s not difficult to tell which him they’re talking about.

“He’s half dead now but we don’t have time to stand around,” Neil says. Nicky and Aaron pause their argument they notice Neil standing a few feet away. “We don’t have time for you two to argue.”

For the first time, Aaron gives Neil an approximation of a look of approval. He pushes past Nicky to a cabinet filled with various types of alcohol and starts shoving them into the bag. The noise doesn’t wake up Kevin, but they don’t have time to waste standing around.

Nicky gives Neil a brief panicked look but they move quickly out of the house, leaving Aaron to clear out all the liquor and to deal with the eventual fallout when Kevin eventually wakes up and finds out where the others went.

Andrew is in the driveway shoving duffle bags into the trunk while keeping his laptop bag slung over his shoulder. Andrew tosses the car keys to Nicky and climbs into the passenger seat. “We’re taking the 20 down to Atlanta.”

“Atlanta,” Nicky repeats. He looks at Neil through the rearview mirror but it’s the first Neil is hearing of it himself.

Neil doesn’t want to take a three hour drive down to Atlanta before they finally get on the plane to New York, when they could be flying out from Columbia. If they need to get to New York quickly, then the detour would waste more time than

“Kevin’s passed out and everyone else in Kevin’s department is useless,” Andrew says offhandedly. Neil can hear him digging around the glove compartment. “Too much money for Wymack to override Kevin so he cashed on a favor and passed us on to Rhemann.”

Nicky makes an unnecessarily sharp right turn while Neil resists the urge to grab onto the seat in front of him. “So what, we have to take off from there now?”

“Money, liability, responsibility,” Andrew must find what he’s looking for because he closes the glove department with a slam. “Not my problem.”

“Melatonin,” Nicky’s grip on the wheel tightens and he shoots an alarmed look at his cousin, “Andrew it gives you-”

“Less talking more driving,” Andrew cuts in.

Neil glances down at the smartphone in his hands as his mind travels back to the burner phone hidden in his room. They were already making their way to the highway and it would be impossible to get back to his apartment without a good enough excuse to pass through. And even with that, Andrew would likely see right through him and it would ignite another newfound spark of interest.

Neil couldn’t tell if Andrew was just bored or if he saw Neil as a genuine threat. But given his protectiveness over Kevin the night before, even if they weren’t in any kind of relationship, Neil still didn’t know the extent of what either Andrew or Renee and Nicky knew.

It’d been a pressing matter last night, but given certain distractions and the untimely appearance of Aaron in the kitchen, Neil hadn’t had the chance to ask Nicky anything.

Columbia was supposed to be an easier assignment after Baltimore, but between Kevin and the Moriyamas, it appeared that even when he gave up blindly running away his past still had a bad habit of luring him back in.

Neil closes his eyes and tightens his grip on his phone. He wonders if there’s a city he’s been in that hasn’t given him nightmares.

There isn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the support and patience during this long unexpected hiatus.
> 
> This is the revised version of chapter 12. For anyone who didn't see the previous author's note, after a lot of deliberation I've decided to rework chapters 12 and 13 because I was unhappy with the pacing and characterization in both chapters. Plot wise, nothing has really changed and the everything is still going in the same direction. I'm much happier with how the chapter has worked out. For anyone who's wondering the previous flashback scenes for Turin, Baltimore, and Surrey are still 100% canon. Also there's a link to the timeline (with chapter links!!) on my blog and in my blog description on mobile. 
> 
> Thank you again everyone and a special thanks to my beta. Happy reading.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @thepalmtoptiger


	13. it's better to know the devil you know than the devil you don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil learns about consequences and running away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Devil You Know by X Ambassadors

**Baltimore, Maryland**

Death was simple. The consequences weren’t – dealing with families, disposing of bodies. Everything suddenly became more real when Neil couldn’t clinically stand by and observe.

“We’re not sending you on a suicide mission,” Wilson tried to plead.

“I don’t think you understand that’s not a request,” Neil said slowly. “I gave you all the information I had and you couldn’t do anything with it for seven months. That’s not my fault.”

“You were holding out on us,” Browning moved closer to Neil’s face.

“I was holding out on you?” Neil asked evenly. He could feel his anger simmering to the surface. “I was holding back the names and the information on the people who spent the better part of the last ten years trying to kill me.”

“You’re not going in.”

“I’m going in,” Neil protested.

“That’s not a request,“ Browning barked.

Neil could feel the consequences of every bad decision he’d made in almost ten years piling on top of each other. Neil gave Browing and Wilson almost every shred of information he had. The only thing he’d truly left out was Tetsuji’s arrangement with his father. It wouldn’t be good to taint the family name of the current FBI Director. If the FBI hadn’t made any progress in the seven months Neil was stuck in training at Quantico, that meant that Ichirou either held out information because of Neil’s botched hit or the FBI was just that incompetent.

He should have just killed Riko when he had the chance.

He would always be Nathaniel. No matter how many times he changed his name, he would always be the Butcher of Baltimore’s son, heir to the Wesninski crime syndicate, a child born of knives and blood and violence and the union between the Wesninski and the Hatford families.

He’d stained his own hands with blood already – separate from all the times his father placed a knife in his hands.

“How many people have you sent in? He’s not just a crime boss. He’s a killer and he enjoys it. And he trained his people to be just as ruthless.” Neil let his words hang in the air.

“Neil,” Wilson cleared his throat to speak, but Neil didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“Did you know about the initiation before I told you? Did you even warn them?”

He’d had time to process and accept his own initiation. He’d learned to block out the smell and the screams until the bodies on the ground became background noise. Inconsequential. And even the shots fired at the men his father sent after him felt like nothing. He’d learned to view death with a clinical detachment. It was easier when you didn’t have to stick around to face the consequences.

“Neil, drop it,” Wilson tried again.

“They’re both dead because of you. You sent them in.” Neil paused for a moment in consideration. When he spoke again there was an undercurrent of hostility. “How did it happen? Did they have to dig a knife into someone? Drag it out as slowly as possible? Hack off a limb with an axe? Did they even make it that far?” Neil gave a short shrug. “What difference does it make. Either way you had to go to back to someone’s family and tell them just how much you fucked up.” And Neil had watched first hand as Wilson dropped the news to one of their families.

The silence in the room hung like a dead weight. Neil knew he was right, he didn’t need the agents’ confirmation. They’d tried and failed before, years ago when they first tried to infiltrate Nathan’s ranks yet they hadn’t learned from their mistakes. Neil wondered how many got close to the initiation stage, how many people got through it, how many failed. He didn’t want to think of the numbers. But the figures still flooded his mind. He was just at fault for their unnecessary and avoidable deaths as Wilson and Browning.

A certain sense of numbness set in after a while. “It wouldn’t be a suicide mission,” Neil said. “Even if it was, it wouldn’t be any worse than the stunts you pulled before. At least there wouldn’t be a family to comfort.”

The revelation should have been jarring but wasn’t far from the truth. His father wanted him dead, his mother was actually dead, and even his mother’s side of the family had washed their hands clean of him. The people he had before he left were no longer people who could depend on.

He had no family.

He wasn’t going to be the prodigal son returning to the people who wanted him dead for years. He wasn’t planning on being a martyr, but he’d spent enough time running away from his problems and it was coming back to haunt him.

It wasn’t enough to run, he had to play smarter. Adapt and survive as his mother said. This time he’d have to adapt or accept that there was no chance he’d make it anywhere near thirty. Maybe it was born out of his selfish need for survival but he’d invested too much in ensuring his own survival to throw his efforts away entirely. And despite all of his mistakes, he couldn’t regret being alive now even it meant turning back to the life he’d left behind and facing the consequences of his action.

“Fine,” Browning said gruffly. “I’ll allow it.”

**New York, New York**

They hole up in a small hotel just outside the city proper to video chat Dan. They’d come up with a generalized plan during the plane ride but they still needed to check in with Columbia to iron out some of the bigger details.

Neil gives his phone a quick check and notices an new message from Matt giving an update on Kevin. As soon as Andrew, Nicky and himself left the house, Aaron called Matt to come over to help keep an eye on Kevin when he woke up. Somehow Seth tagged along with his roommate and the three of them were keeping Kevin under watch. It looked too much like needless babysitting to Neil, but the others seemed adamant that Kevin remained under close observation. Neil feels a stirring of discomfort at the thought, but pushes it down in lieu of focusing at the task at hand.

Renee sits at the small desk with the laptop and Nicky hangs off the back of her chair. He hovers over her left shoulder, face pressing much closer than most people with a sense of personal space. Despite the necessary closeness, Renee doesn’t seem to mind. She moves the laptop over a bit so Neil can see the screen from his spot on the edge of the bed. While Neil is likely visible, Andrew remains out of sight from his position on the floor.

“We have a conflict of interest,” Dan says immediately.

Dan’s face appears on the secure agency video chat window. It’s a weekend so she looks less polished than she does while in the office but also significantly more tired. Neil’s not close enough to tell but he wouldn’t be surprised to see the stress of the week appearing as light bags under her eyes. In a different window, Wymack’s equally tired face pops up.

“What kind of conflict of interest?” Nicky asks.

“It’s Kevin,” Wymack says gruffly. “I’m benching from touching the case at all. I don’t care if it’s just handling the money. I don’t want anywhere near the Moriyamas.” Nicky opened his mouth in protest but Wymack cut him off, “you assholes used up a favor from Rhemann so you could run off without telling Kevin where the hell you were going. Where’s my thanks for that?”

There’s a gentle murmur of thanks around the hotel room from everyone except Andrew who is hunched over another laptop from his position on the floor.

“It’s not even Riko’s case,” Nicky says to himself.

“No point in worrying about that. I have someone else in the department handling Kevin’s responsibilities for now. Also, I want you all to write a thank you letter to Rhemann and his office for being nice. That means you too Andrew.”

Andrew raises his arm well over his head and flips Wymack off, “Sure coach.” Wymack grits his teeth at the reply but otherwise doesn’t respond.

Dan sighs and puts her head in her hands. “New York is their jurisdiction, there’s a murder in New York. They’re not going to be as cooperative as the Baltimore branch and just leave the investigation. I know you had to get there before they completely shut you out but it’s still dangerous territory.”

“Where are you with your leads?” Wymack asks.

“Wilford is detained. Hanson is in a nursing home. And Hermes runs a support group for ex-cons in Omaha.” Nicky lists off the main suspects from the previous case. “Oh, and Dillard died three years ago.”

“Jesus Christ,” Wymack drops his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, “so no new suspects then. We have a similar MO. Have you found anything with that?”

Renee shakes her head, “other than the fact that the original victims and their children would be around the same age now, no. The victim’s bodies were dumped in national parks but we don’t have any idea where the actual murders took place. Every bit of evidence was scrubbed clean. We’ll have to wait for them to slip up or hope that something breaks through.”

“We’re thinking it might even be a copycat but it would have to be someone inside information that wasn’t released to the public,” Nicky adds.

“Could it be possible that it’s someone who had inside information on the case?” Dan asked cautiously.

A chill descended on the room. It was a possibility. They’d touched on it briefly before finding the body in Baltimore, but it wasn’t dismissed but the implication of what it could mean was enough for them to edge around it. “If it was someone working on the case before…” Renee trails off with a frown. “We’ll have to look into everyone who worked on the case before. FBI included.”

“For now, we need to convince them to work with us when it’s harder to turn us away. But we can’t antagonize them too much.” Wymack gives Neil a meaningful look, “If we wait any longer they’ll be able to get away with hiding more from us.”

Neil furrows his eyebrows, “They won’t hand over their suspect list even if we ask nicely.”

“I’m not expecting anyone to get on their knees and grovel.”

“Neither of them is worth getting on your knees for,” Nicky says idly.

Andrew tilts his screen in Neil’s direction. Neil glances down to get a better look at Andrew’s screen. He shouldn’t be able to open case files for an ongoing investigation that wasn’t his without special permissions, but Neil’s slowly learning to stop questioning Andrew’s methods.

The crime scene doesn’t look much different than the last. Neil is almost disappointed by the similarity. Based on the previous crime scenes, the murderer should be raising the stakes – first a burned body redressed in clothing, another body with a calling card, and the last body with severed legs. This body also has its legs severed but there appeared to be no other immediate differences. Despite not being able to read it from his position, the initial coroner’s report looks sparse. Neil almost groans in frustration. Either the coroner did a shittier job than Aaron, who admittedly was good at his job annoying personality withstanding, or something is being withheld from the report.

With Neil’s luck, it’s both.

Neil rushed things along in Baltimore to get the confirmation that there might have been two people involved in the murder. Technically he should have gone with the medical examiner and gone through a brief approval before testing out his theory, but he hadn’t had the time or patience to do so. Part of him had hoped that going off on his own a bit would speed up the process a bit, but it hadn’t.

Neil has suspicions. He has a lot of suspicions but he’s not sure how much of them he’s willing to share with the team just yet. But the last crime scene hit bone-deep and he has a feeling that this next body would as well.

Neil misses the rest of the briefing as he goes through the report with Andrew.

“Okay, just keep us updated,” Dan says.

Dan and Wymack wind down their debriefing session. Dan and Wymack sign out. Renee shuts down the interface and Nicky detaches himself from her side.

“I need to see it live,” Neil says curtly.

“Of course you do,” Andrew replies mildly. Neil accepts the laptop Andrew offers him.

“There’s something missing from the coroner’s report. We have to go to the crime scene and the coroner’s ourselves before we do anything else. We won’t be able to ambush Riko, but I need to see them in case he tries to hide anything else.” Everyone looks at each other grimly.

It was going to be a long case.

\---

“Why couldn’t they pick Central Park like a normal serial killer,” Nicky says over the Bluetooth. “We’re in the middle of the woods. In Staten Island. Isn’t this place supposed to be the armpit of the whole Northeast?” Nicky and Andrew had arrived in Great Kills Park ahead of Neil and Renee on their visit to the coroner’s office. The irony of where the body was dropped wasn’t lost on any of them.

“That was New Jersey,” Andrew responds idly, his voice sounding further away.

“Yeah, but Staten Island is like the bastard child of New Jersey and New York. This is my first time here but I can sense it. It’s...Stepfordy. I’m waiting to get run over by a sensibly overpriced minivan.” Renee lets out an aborted chuckle that half dissolves into a poorly disguised cough.

“Oh Renee, I thought you were the nice one,” there’s the slightest tinge of amusement in Andrew’s voice.

“Neil and I are outside the coroner’s office now,” Renee deflects.  “We’ll let you know what we find.”

“Got it. We’re not getting anything from the crime scene now but we’ll look around more.

They probably cleared up the crime scene by now but it’s worth a shot. Talk to you guys later.” With that Nicky hangs up.

Renee and Neil take a moment to compose themselves. “Ready?” Renee asks. Neil nods his head in affirmation. The two exited the vehicle and made their way to the building. They make their way past security to the main desk.

“Hello, we’re with the FBI,” Renee flashed her credentials at the person behind the desk, “I’m Agent Walker and this is my partner Agent Josten. We’re here to review a body brought in a few days ago.”

The receptionist inspects their credentials and gives them a firm nod before clicking on the computer for a brief moment, “Dr. Reslin is in today. She’s on the third level.”

Renee accepts their visitor’s badges and hands one to Neil. “Thank you,” she says politely.

Neil can feel the countdown begin. Riko and Tetsuji would find out that their team was on the ground if they hadn’t already. They only had so much time to dig before confronting the Moriyamas for butting into their case. Neil wasn’t looking forward to it but he knew that they were better off not causing a complete fallout with them. The case was more important right now and at worst, they’d need to work together to solve it.

Dr. Reslin is waiting for them when they reach the third floor. “FBI,” she reaches out to shake hands. “I wasn’t expecting you guys to stop by today.”

“Sorry for not calling ahead, but it was urgent,” Renee gives an apologetic smile. “It’s the body that was brought in a few days ago. The burn victim.”

“That’s putting it a bit mildly. I’ve seen a lot of things but that was unusual, to say the least.” Dr. Reslin leads them to the morgue. “You got lucky. The body is scheduled to be cremated later today.”

“Thank you. We just wanted a final look at it.” Neil says when he finally has his protective gear on. He takes his time categorizing the injuries on the body. It’s not any different than the previous bodies except for one key difference.

The tongue is cut off.

The piece of information was missing from the reports in the files Andrew pulled up earlier. Neil pries the mouth open further to get a better look to find the victim’s teeth also damaged with several missing entirely. He checks the gums carefully to verify his suspicion that the teeth were intentionally yanked from the victim’s mouth. “This was missing from the report.”

“Are you sure? The tongue was removed and found in her hands.” The medical examiner frowns slightly. She moves closer to point out the teeth. “You can probably tell that her teeth were yanked out so we can’t get a positive id on her. ”

Renee’s phone begins to ring and she exits the room to take the call but Neil ignores it in order to take another careful look at the body for anything else that he might have been missed. Neil pauses for a moment and thinks back to Aaron’s usual reaction when Neil comes back for a second look at the body. Dr. Reslin has been quiet and professional throughout his examination but Neil still finds the sudden need to explain himself.

“Seeing photos makes things feel disconnected,” Neil tries. “They always look different up close.”

Dr. Reslin nods slightly. “They seem less like real people.” It’s a bit too much for Neil at the moment but he lets the words soak in. Neil folds the sheet back over the body and locks the body back in it’s designated compartment. At that moment, Renee walks back in with a strangely blank face.

“Oh, did you two finish up?” She asks.

“I think we’re just about done,” Dr. Reslin replies. She looks and Neil and he gives a brief nod but most of his focus is on Renee’s expression.

They give their thanks to the medical examiner and silently make their way back to the car. It isn’t until Renee starts the vehicle that she finally speaks.

“They found the legs.”

Neil stares at her in surprise. “They found the legs,” he repeats.

“Yes. They were some distance away from the main site but they were there. They alerted the authorities already and asked us to meet them there.” Renee grips the steering wheel harder. Neil has never seen her careful composure slip before and the thought unsettles him. “They’re raising the stakes too quickly and we have no idea why.”

She was right. Things were accelerating too quickly. Either the suspects were on a time limit or they’d grown too comfortable taunting authorities. It was also likely both. Regardless, they had nothing to go on and the possibility that the killers were involved in the previous investigation grew. Even with that, they needed solid evidence before anything could go through.

The evidence wouldn’t be easy to come by.

“You think they left the legs near the crime scene on purpose.”

“I doubt they would be this messy. They’ve been careful so far. Something must have changed.”

Riko and Tetsuji didn’t have much to gain unless they planned on framing someone else for the murders and wanted to take the credit for solving a cold case - Tetsuji’s own case and the last he supervised during his time at the Bureau - years later. It seemed beyond the scopes of his world view to Neil. Ambition and glory were never things he understood. Or rather things he no longer understood.

He’d done a host of things to survive on the run. He’d shot bullets through the people his father sent after them, poisoned their drinks without remorse, and tortured the truth out of them. He’d been able to justify each action as an act of necessity to ensure his survival.

Even under his father’s tutelage, he could excuse most of his acts of violence. There members of his father’s syndicate and uninvolved employees who had families and lives outside of crime. There were people who needed a steady income and protection from the various other gangs who fought for control of the city. There were people who depended on them. And Nathan Weskninski, for all his faults, made good on his promise to provide them with the things they need as long as they stayed loyal to him. He took care of his people and looked out for them.

They were family.

But there a poison in his father’s eyes that he couldn’t ignore - the poison he could see echoed back in his own eyes that terrified him and pushed him away. Nathan took joy in the violence and the torture. He feed off of it. Neil laid witness to the pleasure and happiness in his father’s eyes as he watched the life drain out of someone by his own hands. And he encouraged it in his own son, his mirror image.

Neil wouldn’t have left if things had been different.

If he wasn’t so scared of that possible aspect of himself, he would have stayed. He would have been good at his job. Neil couldn’t ignore the revelation any longer. His life afterward was filled with running and self-preservation. It made sense. It was a basic instinct to protect himself and he refused to regret doing what he had to do to survive. But he could never be like the Moriyamas or his father.

His own biases aside, Neil had learned better than to underestimate people.

**Staten Island, New York**

When they arrive at Great Kills Park, the place is swarming with police cars. Neil recognizes the three figures standing just outside the police barricade immediately.

Riko and Jean look the same as they did when Neil last saw them in Baltimore. Their suits are different but they’re still matching and immaculately pressed. Neil is self-conscious of his own borrowed suit for a moment which seems to drag on as soon as Riko catches sight of him and Renee approaching. Nicky is missing but Andrew is standing with the two other FBI agents with an impassive look on her face.

“Walker. Josten. I cannot say that we’re surprised to see you here. You’re very enthusiastic.” Riko’s voice is cold a biting but Renee meets it with a small smile.

“We could say the same for you,” she says. She brings her hand up to the back of Neil’s arm and digs her nails in slightly. “Thank you for assisting with our case. The Baltimore office was very accommodating but you too have been extremely enthusiastic. It means a lot to us.”

Neil can see Riko’s eyebrow twitch in annoyance. “Well, we love to be of help. But we could have handled this case and simply reported back to you. You had no reason to come here.”

“We couldn’t leave you hanging on your own. We all have the same end goal of finding out who’s behind these murders and helping the victims’ families gain some closure. There’s no reason we can’t work together.”

“I’m not sure if your team has the resources it needs to be of any help.”

“We’ve been managing well so far given the nature of the case. It seems that you haven’t come across much evidence either.”

“I believe we’re managing fine as well considering you’ve been on this case for weeks and haven’t progressed at all.”

“All the more reason to join efforts,” Renee gives a smile and offers her hand out to Riko. He stares at it blankly before turning back at her with a sneer on his face. Renee drops her hand.

“Your team is incompetent. If you think that you have any chance of solving anything with your half-baked team you’re delusional. They shouldn’t have let any of you into the FBI. You’re all a disgrace to the agency,” he spat. Renee digs her nails into Neil’s arm hard enough that if he wasn’t wearing a suit jacket, they would leave distinct half crescent marks on his arm. “We’d love to work together with you but if that’s not possible, we’ll just have to progress on our own. I’m sorry if we wasted your time.”

“It’s a shame that we had to meet this way,” Riko’s voice slips into a mockingly polite tone. “Especially considering there’s no more reason for you to stay here. You should consider going back to South Carolina. It’s would be terrible if you neglected any pressing affairs there.” Neil doesn’t miss the sly glance Riko aims at Andrew who’s blank facial expression had not changed during the encounter.

Neil wonders what they were talking about before he and Renee arrived.

“I would say it was good seeing you, but I don’t make a habit of being a liar,” Riko says brushing off the non-existent wrinkle on his suit. “I really do suggest going home.”

“Thank you for the advice,” Renee tightens her grip on Neil’s arm again. “But I guess we’ll be seeing you soon.”

“Wonderful,” Riko gives him one last strained smile and briskly begins walking away presumably where he and Jean parked their vehicle. Jean pauses slightly as they leave. He gives them a short nod before turning to trail behind his partner.

Renee finally releases her grip on Neil’s arm.

“I’m going back,” Andrew says tersely. He brushes by them without further comment. Renee frowns at his retreating figure but doesn’t comment on him.

“I’m sorry about your arm,” Renee turns back to Neil with an apologetic expression.

Neil gives a slight nod of acknowledgment. There was a guaranteed chance that he would have said something that created a scene and further increased tension between the two teams. Renee had only been following Wymack’s warning to not cause a bigger fuss than necessary so he could at least accept that despite his slight annoyance at his team member.

Renee accepts his response and looks around the scene. “We should get you to the location so you can take a look. And then find Nicky.”

“He’s probably talking to the officers. Some of them might have been on location when the body was found.” Neil spares a brief look at his phone debating whether or not to call Nicky when he finds a barrage of missed calls and texts from Matt. Neil skims through the messages quickly and his breath catches in his throat. He dials Matt immediately. Matt picks up on the first ring.

“What do you mean you lost him?” Neil asks carefully.

“I mean exactly that,” Matt responses tersely. “He went out to the backyard with Seth and somehow ended up stealing his car.”

“He stole Seth’s car?”

Matt lets out a loud sigh. “We took his cell phone, but apparently he stole Aaron’s phone to book a flight while Aaron was...distracted. It’s pretty much the only place he would run off to. Seth got loud when we tried to get him to tell us how he lost sight of Kevin.” Neil digs his nails into the palm of his hand.

“We didn’t follow him to the airport though. Look, we shouldn’t have locked him up here even if we thought it was the best thing to do. He’s an adult.” Matt lets out another frustrated sigh and his voice comes out tired and strained. “We fucked up. We should have actually talked to him instead of holding him hostage in his own place.”

“You’re right,” Neil replies. It’s somewhat comforting to hear someone agree his own concerns from earlier but now Kevin is on a flight heading to the one place he should likely be avoiding. But despite their best intentions, they shouldn’t have kept Kevin under lock and key with a team of babysitters watching his every move. He was an adult and entitled to make his own decisions regardless of how self-destructive they might be or how much other people disagreed with them.

Neil wasn’t sure how Kevin would handle being in his old city and possibly seeing the Moriyamas again after years of estrangement. After Kayleigh’s death, Tetsuji raised to the two boys together like brothers. Riko and Kevin spent their whole lives living in each other’s pockets. Neil never imagined coming face to face with Kevin in South Carolina of all places. Kevin Day had been Riko’s partner in the New York field office until three years ago when an unfortunate injury ended his career as a field agent.

Neil had planned it meticulously.

His initial objective under Ichirou’s orders was to kill Riko. Ichirou hadn’t said it directly but Neil could read into the expectation that Neil would handle Riko the same way the Butcher handled anyone who came in his way - slow and tortuous with a collection of knives and a sharp grin. Riko was supposed to suffer. Riko had to suffer. A quick death would have been enough for Ichirou. Neil couldn’t bring himself to be involved that type of torture ever again.

He got lucky.

Over the span of six months, there were a long string of failed attacks targeting Kevin. It only took a bit of digging to find that Riko, motivated by ambition and jealousy, was responsible for arraigning the attack against his field partner and brother. Even if it wasn’t something he personally understood, he knew better than to dismiss it.

Another incident and some carefully placed evidence should have been enough to put Riko under investigation and charged with multiple accounts of attempted murder and conspiracy to commit murder.

Shooting Kevin and was the lesser of many evils. But Neil underestimated Riko and worked under the assumption that Kengo Moriyama wouldn’t get involved further than allowing Riko to step down from the FBI free of charges in order to keep the family name intact. But Neil had been wrong and Riko managed to dodge both the charges and having to retire from the FBI.

Neil’s father had enough resources to chase Neil across two continents, but Ichirou had a strong influence and more ties. It would leave Neil with nowhere to run. He had a debt to repay.

“We’ll find out his flight information and meet him at the airport,” Neil says finally realizing that he’d spent too much time lost in his own head to respond to Matt. He takes a deep breath to compose himself. “Thank you, Matt.” Neil barely hears Matt’s response before he hangs up the phone.

He’d have to find a way to deal with Riko.

**Surrey, England**

Nate had his fake passport ready and a few hundred Euros in small and large bills. The rest of his cash, mostly skimmed from his father, was also readily available as well as a few contacts he’d managed to snag.

He double and triple checked his travel backpacking, cataloging every item and memorizing their location. Uncle Stuart stood at his regular perch against the doorframe of the room Nate had commandeered over the last few days and Nate could feel his uncle’s judgmental stare boring a hole through him.

“What,” Nate said, less of a question and more of an agitated sigh. He turned to face his uncle.

Uncle Stuart raised an eyebrow at his nephew, “I haven’t said anything.”

Nate ground his teeth slightly but let the statement go. Stuart had personally kept a sharp eye on Nate over the last few days, almost never leaving the teenager’s side and only long enough to check on some business affairs before hunting his nephew down again. Nate was used to his father’s men following his every move, but somehow Stuart watching him with appraisal sat heavy on Nate’s shoulders. He could feel the disapproval rolling off his uncle at every turn. Still, aside from their first tense conversation about Nate running away, Uncle Stuart let the issue drop.

While Stuart might have been begrudgingly understanding if not still disapproving before, his mood had taken a slow dive and now days later, it came with an undercurrent of hostility. Nate waited the entire week while his uncle silently kept an eye on him and by now, Nate was ready to tear his own hair out.

Nathan’s anger was a vicious and boisterous affair. He started quietly almost serenely, his voice polite and level. There was a false sense of peace that abruptly switched to terror as he shifted past simple annoyance to almost sadistic violence. But the sheer unpredictability of his temper made it terrifying to witness.

While Uncle Stuart tended to be loud in voicing his minor annoyances, his anger was something different. Nate didn’t have the immediate urge to duck and hide but the uncertainty at the extent of his uncle’s reaction was enough to set him on edge anyway.

“You have something to say,” Nate said carefully. “You’ve had something to say for days so just spit it out.” His voice was more steady and even than he expected but he could still feel his anger dancing under the surface.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Nate opened his mouth to protest but Uncle Stuart cut him off, “I told you last time that you’re a child. You’re a sheltered child who doesn’t know what they’re doing. One of these days you’re gonna realize that your actions have consequences. But you’re pig-headed enough that it won’t be until you completed fucked up.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Maybe you won't learn shit even then.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Nate said tersely. Stuart studied him carefully before letting out a sharp huff and shaking his head incredulously.  

“You’re going to leave a trail of blood behind you and wind up getting yourself killed,” he eased off the door frame and leveled one last hard look at his nephew, “and when you do Nathaniel, I hope it’s slow enough that you remember this conversation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a million times prouder of this chapter than the original version.
> 
> The Baltimore scene and the Surrey scene are essentially the same, nothing changes other than a bit of Neil's internal thoughts. Same outcome. Same conversation. But I guess it makes a huge difference.
> 
> The plane scene was abandoned because it didn't do anything to advance the plot. The later scenes were meant to happen in the flowing chapter but it made more sense to bring them in early. And bless, the bombs dropped in the original version still come into play but they're presented differently and less expository. And I'm finally happy with Neil being less whiny and following some of his characterization in the books more. 
> 
> I'm rambling but find me on Tumblr @thepalmtoptiger


	14. everybody thinks that they're gonna rule the world (i'm just gonna learn how to play it)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil comes to Columbia for the first time. Kevin joins the team in New York. A long time ago, Neil cashed in on a lot of favors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *CRYING* MY BETA IS AMAZING. SO AMAZING. LIKE WOW. 
> 
> Running All Night by Zayde Wølf

**Columbia, South Carolina**

“Special Agent Josten.”

Neil accepted the offered hand and shook it firmly. “Thank you, sir.” The other man’s lips turned down briefly but he gestured for Neil to take a seat.

Special Agent David Wymack was not what Neil expected when he received his assignment to Columbia, South Carolina. The picture in his profile was that of a younger man with less rough features than the man in before him. His face was unshaven with a few days of stubble along his jaw and his sleeves were pushed up to reveal a dark tattoos on his forearms that crawled up his arms and disappeared. However, the most pressing similarity was the hard expression on his face. Neil was used to posturing long before signing his life away to the FBI at twenty five. He’d seen enough people who put on acts in order to exude an air of toughness. But the harsh lines and darkened look on the other agent’s face now echoed that of his previous photos.

David Wymack had certainly experienced some of the harsh realities of life even before joining the bureau.

“I’m not going to ask you about your file,” Wymack said directly. “A nice portion of it is past my pay grade and frankly, I don’t care. What I care about is what you do here.”

“Yes sir,” Neil echoed back automatically. Wymack frowned again.

“Don’t bother with the sir. I’m here to make sure you can do your job, not lord over you. Everyone in this office is a team and the only thing I expect is for you to be able able to work together and get your jobs done. I don’t care about whatever issues you have or you have with each other off the job. The second you put on your badge it’s done. Gone.”

Neil nodded in understanding. He’d gotten a similar variation of Wymack’s speech more than once. “I understand.”

“If you have any serious issues, schedule an appointment with Dr. Dobson. Otherwise you’ll be reporting directly to Special Agent Wilds.” Wymack gave him another searching look before dismissing him with gruff nod. “Welcome to South Carolina.”

* * *

 

“You don’t have to come out with us,” Hemmick commandeered an empty office chair from one of the empty nearby desks. “I mean, consider it at least. You’ve been here almost two weeks already. I promise Renee and I don’t bite.” Neil took a casual bite of his turkey sandwich, trying make his discomfort less obvious. If he was lucky, the owner of the chair would come back to his desk and Hemmick would be forced to leave.

Neil was being uncharacteristically hopeful.

“I want to get used to the office first.”

“And what better way than to get to know your partners,” Hemmick gave him a wide grin - unfortunately an expression, Neil learned on the first day, that was almost permanent etched onto his face.

It was as annoying as it was off-putting. “Maybe some other time,” Neil dodged and took another bite of his sandwich. Hemmick gave him a searching look but nodded all the same.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said seriously. Neil made a noncommittal hum and turned out to the spread of crime scene photos from his first case in his new field office.

The case opened up two weeks before Neil joined the office. The body of a trucker sporting multiple stab wounds had been found in an eight-wheel parked on the side of the highway. The entire cab had been a bloodied mess and the fact that the truck had been sitting out in the South Carolina sun for half the day in the middle of spring with a slowly decaying body inside left a poignant stench in the air. Neil would have preferred a shooting to a stabbing but he couldn’t exactly pick the way that victims were murdered to work around his own hangups.

Neil would have to go down to the main forensics lab later to work out the knife wounds and to help finish cataloging the rest of the evidence from the second body found in a similar state in an eighteen wheeler parked on the side of the main highway.

“Are you harassing the new hire?” A woman appeared behind Hemmick and placed a casual hand on his shoulder. Hemmick swung around slightly in his chair to face her.

“Miss Reynolds,” he greeted her cheerfully. “Dodging work?”

Reynolds rolled her eyes. “The interns are complete morons and Dan wants to meet to discuss their ‘potential growth and development in the office’. I’d rather set myself on fire. Or Jackson, Jacob, Joshua or whatever his name is. Pompous prick.”

“Oooh, so we can threaten the interns now?” Hemmick’s face stretched into a full blown smile.

“Not unless you can suddenly do damage control.”

Hemmick raised his hands in surrender and pushed his chair away from her. “No thanks..”

“I’ll sic Minyard on them,” she tilted her head in consideration. “One day with the monster should be traumatizing enough to get them to do their jobs properly.”

“Minyard?” Neil asked.

Reynold’s stare was unnerving to say the least. She studied him carefully as she casually strolled over to Neil’s desk. “You must be new.”

“Special Agent Neil Josten,” Hemmick replied. “He’s our new partner.”

“Renee mentioned you before,” Reynolds shifted her attention to Neil and he immediately regretted bringing attention to himself. The name was familiar. He’d met Aaron Minyard who worked in the coroner’s office at the precinct the first time a few days prior. He was sullen and irritable and made it explicitly clear that he didn’t appreciate Neil intruding on his work or having to hand over his findings to the FBI for further analysis. “So you’re curious about Minyard then?”

“He’s met Aaron,” Hemmick supplied.

“You already met one half the monsters then. Well, one fourth.” Reynold  raised an eyebrow. “Andrew Minyard. He’s kind of made a name for himself.”

“Don’t listen to her, she’s trying to rile you up,” Hemmick cut in but Neil wasn’t paying attention to him.

“I’m not trying to rile him up,” Reynolds scoffed. “I’m indulging his curiosity. Everyone likes stories about creepy twins.”

“Creepy twins?”

“I hear he’s killed a man,” Reynolds said ignoring Hemmick’s interruption.

“This is the FBI. Everyone says they’ve killed a man,” Neil replied dryly. He rewrapped the remainder of his turkey sandwich and rearranged the photos on his desk.

Reynolds gave a light hum and shifted herself to lean casually on his desk. “Not necessarily true. Well, I heard rumors that I’ve killed a man. With a stiletto. As if I’d do that to a perfectly good shoe. People like to waste their time with gossip.”

Neil nodded along as he struggled with his login credentials. “I don’t pay attention to office gossip.”

“So you’re not worried about Minyard at all?” She leaned closer to him. “He’s one of the supervisor in analytics. And he has less…moral boundaries than most people. I mean a guy like that, with all that unlimited access? I wonder what kinds of things he could dig up about someone.”

Neil tried to ignore the chill that ran through his body. It was unfounded. Most of his file was ‘need to know’ meaning that even Wymack and Wilds didn’t have full access to all of the more colorful aspects of Neil’s past. It was for his safety but it didn’t necessarily mean that things couldn’t come back and bite him in the ass eventually. “They’re just rumors.”

“So you aren’t the least bit curious about them?” She pressed a well manicured hand on his shoulder and slipped off his desk. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it Neil. A nice guy like you probably doesn’t have too many secrets.”

“Geez Allison,” Hemmick shook his head. “Knock it down a bit.”

“He got suspended for misconduct last year. He got Hanson transferred to bumfuck Iowa. And he’s pushed more than a few people to Dr. Dobson’s office. He gets along with all of three people and Day is the only one he can stand for more than five minutes.” Neil’s attention zeroed in on the name for a brief moment. It could just be an unfortunate coincidence.

“Jesus. Allison stop,” Hemmick cut in again, his voice taking on an almost anxious tone. “Just leave it alone.”

“Allison,” a calm voice filtered in from somewhere behind Hemmick. It was Walker. She moved to stand behind Hemmick and fixed  Reynolds with a disappointed expression. “What’s going on here.”

“Nothing,” Reynolds’ intense expression shifted to something that almost seemed embarrassed and guilty. “Just stopping by. I met your new partner.” She cocked her head towards Neil.

“I can see that,” Walker frowned as she glanced between them. “I hope you didn’t scare him too much.” Reynolds tensed slightly and the look of guilty read more firmly on her face.

“I should get going. I have actual interns to scare. It was nice meeting you Neil.” Neil couldn’t say the same so he gave a curt nod. Reynolds accepted it and straighten, smoothing her hands over her dress pants and settling into a confident stance. Hemmick offered her a brief goodbye but Walker reached out a hand and briefly interlocked their fingers, giving a quick squeeze and offering a small smile. Reynolds returned the gesture and slipped her hand out of Walker’s loose hold before briskly walking away.

“Mr. Bennett is in the interview room, I wasn’t sure if you were on your break yet,” Walker said. “I can speak to him alone if you are.”

Hemmick stood stretching. “Mr. Bennett? Already? It’s fine, I had something quick down in the cafeteria. I’m ready to go if you are.” He turned to Neil and quirked an eyebrow. “You can tag along if you want.”

“I need to head down to forensics,” Neil shuffled the rest of his files together. “Some of the additional blood samples should have come back by now.”

“Sounds good,” Hemmick flashed Neil a quick smile. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

Neil knew Hemmick didn’t mean the interview. Neil had no intention of joining Hemmick or any of the members of the department out for a casual night of drinks. He might eventually cave to the suggestion but Neil was set on using the excuse of needing to adjust to the new town and new office for as long as possible. He couldn’t get away with being antisocial for long.

Neil leaned back in his chair and lightly massaged his left shoulder, forgetting all about Reynolds’ warnings about Andrew Minyard.

**New York, New York**

Nicky finds Neil lingering around the periphery of the crime scene and drags him over to the scene itself.

All of the bodies they’d found displayed little to no signs of decay or insect activity which suggested that the timeframe between when the bodies were dumped and when they were found was relatively short. It had seemed strange at first that the bodies were found so quickly. National Parks were more active than other wooded areas but the likelihood of all the bodies being in such good condition was unusual.

The legs were deposited after the body.

They were in good condition - too little decay or insect activity than to be expected if they were planted at the same time - and found less than a quarter mile from the body. They were being taunted but the perpetrator made a huge mistake.

The murderer had returned to the scene of the crime.

* * *

They’re back at the hotel.

Neil feels antsy and useless. He almost wishes that he’d decided to join Nicky on his trip to the airport to pick Kevin up but he’d elected to stay back but Andrew had a weird air of tension around him. Neil half expected Andrew to volunteer - if that could be considered the word - to pick up Kevin himself, but he’d remained strangely silent when Renee announced that Kevin was on his way. Neil combs through the available surveillance and traffic footage from the area surrounding the national park while Renee compares details from the crime scenes at Great Kills Park.

Andrew sits on the floor, Renee’s sleek Smith & Weston laid out in front of him. He quickly and efficiently takes apart the gun and reassembles it before starting the process all over again. Andrew’s own gun is safely secured in his shoulder holster. While off duty, Neil carries his own gun in an under the waistband holster, but he’d traded the holster for one of Andrew’s spare shoulder holsters before they left Columbia.

“You think we should add them as people of interest,” Neil says. “It’ll be covered up either way.”

“That’s the issue...” Renee trails off slightly. “They’re related to the director. It’ll either end up as cold case or someone else will be set up as a scapegoat.” Renee’s voice takes a hard edge. “They wouldn’t even be sent to trial because it would cause a scandal.”

“What about Kevin?”

Renee had spent the quiet drive back from the park filling Neil in on the abridged version of the history between Kevin and Riko. Neil could tell that she was reluctant to tell a story that wasn’t hers but with Kevin on the way, she’d concluded that it was better to give Neil an idea of the quickly unfolding mess. It wasn’t anything that Neil didn’t already know or wouldn’t have been able to vaguely pieced together based on the breadcrumbs he’d been feed over the last few weeks.

Renee taps her fingers against her keyboard and sighs. “He might be on his way here but that doesn’t mean he’s involved. They’re his family. He’s worried.”

“Worried about what? He doesn’t know anything about the case.” Neil raises an eyebrow. “They ignored him for years. Why should he care now?”

“Kevin can be...intense about things. You weren’t here when he came to the office.”

“He could know something,” Neil points out. “Are we leaving him out because you know him or because you think he’s not involved?”

“Neil, I’m not,” she cuts herself off abruptly. “I’m trying to be impartial but I might not be doing the best job of that. But as far as we know Kevin hasn’t had any contact with the Moriyamas in years. ”

“We need more evidence,” Neil concludes.

Renee sighs and wrings her hands together. “We just need a decent lead.”

The door clicks open a few minutes later and Neil can hears Nicky’s quiet greeting and his equally quiet footsteps as he slips into the room. Neil spares a quick glance towards the doorway where Kevin stands frozen, caught in a stare down with Andrew.

“Andrew,” Kevin says carefully.

“Day,” Andrew replies in a flat tone. The two men continue to stare each other down while the other occupants of the room make no immediate move to ease the thick tense silence.

“I had to come,” Kevin decides on. He swallows thickly and straightens his back.

“Funny you feel the need to defend yourself. Also curious that you suddenly decided to grow a backbone.” Kevin’s muscles jump at the accusation as if preparing to fly out of the room but he manages to hold his ground.

“I told you. I need to be here.”

“Your self-destructive tendencies are getting old,” Andrew says in a dismissive tone. “If you want to kill your liver every weekend, you have always been free to do so. But do not suddenly play at being brave when we both know that you’re going to sink into self pity later.”

“I’m an adult,” Kevin snaps back. “I don’t need babysitters.” Andrew stands abruptly. Moments later he has Kevin roughly pinned against the door by the throat. Kevin lets out a choked sound and raises his hands to lightly grasp at the hand that Andrew has around his throat. “Andrew,” he wheezes out. Nicky gets up from the edge of the bed takes a few measured steps towards the pair and Renee turns in her chair - both posed to break Andrew and Kevin apart if things escalate further.

Kevin has more than a foot of height against Andrew but he shrinks back into himself, not bothering to fight back.

“You’re an idiot. If you want to find creative ways to get yourself kill then go ahead,” Andrew said in a deceptively soft voice. “Did you forget what he did to you.”

“That wasn’t him,” Andrew’s grip around Kevin’s throat tightens.

“Andrew, let go of him,” Renee slowly rises from her chair and moves closer to them. Andrew ignores her and tilts his face closer to Kevin’s.

“So you think it was all an accident? That that sack of shit you call _family_ wouldn’t hurt you to get ahead?” Andrew takes half a step closer until he’s almost pressed against Kevin. “No one’s that stupid.”

Kevin’s shoulders slump slightly at the reply but he doesn’t respond. They stand by the door in a stalemate - Kevin not quite meeting Andrew’s gaze but not standing down either. Then just as suddenly as he’d pinned Kevin to the wall, Andrew lets go of Kevin’s throat and takes a  few steps back. He turns, brushes past Nicky to one of the beds, grabbing his jacket off the bed and a pack of cigarettes and a set of car keys off the nightstand. Nicky gets out of his path to the door and Kevin - hand lightly over his own throat - jumps out of the way.

Andrew shuts the door with a loud bang.

The tension hangs in the air for several stretched out moments after his departure. Kevin continues to rub at his neck, staring off at a corner of the room. Nicky’s shoulders sag and he drops down on one of the bed and buries his head in his hands while Renee stays standing but curls her hands into tight fists

“We should get back to the case,” Renee says, breaking the silence. She carefully lowers herself into her seat. Her posture is stiff as she clenches and unclenches her fists to relieve some tension.

Neil turns back to the security footage, barely processing anything on the screen in front of him.

* * *

With Kevin in the room, there’s not much they can talk about without compromising the case. Kevin might work for the FBI but he doesn’t have the clearance necessary to be involved in the investigation. Neil bites back his annoyance. Andrew was right. Kevin coming here to feed his own self destructive tendencies was his own prerogative but his presence was doing nothing for the case and would serve as more than a hindrance than anything else.

Renee and Neil resort to sending emails back and forth from the Bureau’s internet server despite being in the same room. They could interview Kevin about his involvement with the Moriyamas and whether or not he’d had recent contact with him, but he was still a loose end and neither of them were sure whether alerting Kevin to their biggest lead would be in their best interest.

Surprisingly, it’s Nicky who loses patience first. “Kevin, why are you here?” His voice is tired and strained.

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be,” Kevin bites back.

“I can think of a few,” Nicky says simply. Kevin’s expression hardens and he narrows his eyes. “You know it’s an active investigation. You shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m booking a hotel room of my own,” Kevin replies coldly. “You don’t have to worry about me getting in the way. You’re not even close to solving the case. I doubt that me being here makes a difference.”

“You can do whatever you want on your own time but maybe sitting at a desk doing budgets for a few years made you forget how things work.”

“And who are you?” Kevin shifts his attention to Neil. “This case should be solved by now. Wymack shouldn’t have stuck a child with an experienced team if you’re just going to drag them down.”

“You haven’t been in the field in three years,” Neil snaps. Andrew and the others had no right to keep Kevin locked up in the house but now that the Moriyamas were official people of interest, Kevin’s presence only complicated the case. Neil’s earlier conversation with Renee rings in his ears. “You’re useless here.”

“I’m visiting family,” Kevin says through gritted teeth. “And it’s none of your business.”

“They must be a great family for abandoning you for years when you stopped being useful,” Neil’s face stretches into a cruel smile. “Are you that pathetic?”

“Guys, just stop,” Nicky interrupts. His face pinches into a frown and he glances at Renee for help but her face is unreadable. “Kevin, I know you wanna be here but do you really think it’s a good idea?”

“It’s not up to you. Or are you going to keep me locked up again?” Kevin narrows his eyes, glancing between Nicky and Neil.

Nicky avoids his gaze.

“You know what we have to do if you get involved,” Renee says quietly. “None of us want to do that. Kevin, please. Just go home.”

“I have some things to do here. If you want to kick me out of a city that you have no jurisdiction over, you can try.”

“Kevin…” Nicky trails off.

“This might be my only chance. I need to talk to Riko.” Kevin’s voice drops to a whisper as he rubs his knee and makes eye contact with Nicky.  “I need to know if he did it. And if I don’t do it now, I won’t be able to.”

Nicky rubs his hands over his face. “This is a bad idea.”

“I’m not going to hide behind Andrew forever,” Kevin stands slowly, rubbing his injured knee again. “I’ll stay out of your way.”

Nicky shakes his head. “Kevin. Be careful. Just...be careful.”

“I reserved a hotel and called a ride already,” Kevin waves Aaron’s phone. “I’ll keep this for now.” Kevin makes his way to the door and grabs his small bag. He slips out of the room without saying anything else.

“Fuck,” Nicky say bitterly.

Neil can’t disagree.

**Turin, Italy**

He was leisurely splayed across the old couch, when she got back. He knew that she'd picked up some things from the shops that needed to be put away but since she hadn't called him into the kitchen for help, he assumed that she was fine with handling things on her on.

It had only been a few weeks since Salzburg, and her cauterized bullet wound had healed as best as they could hope without a trip to the hospital. If his first few months were riddled with paranoia, he felt more at ease with having someone else around. He still didn't completely trust her but he'd like to think she wouldn't go out of her way to find him and warn him about his father if she was planning on killing him right away.

“What do you think you’re doing,” she turned into the small sitting room to look at him.

“Eating,” he replied and took a bite of his apple to solidify his answer.

Her rage oozed across the room, something and tangible that he could feel crawl through his bones, “and just how much did you spend.”

“I got some other fruit so a couple Euros,” he said cautiously.

“You spent money…on fresh fruit,” it wasn’t a question. Her voice came out calmly but a sharp accusatory tone edged her voice.

He sat up immediately, the half finished apple feeling like a weight in his hand, “it’s just a few–”

“Just a few Euros,” she cut him off. She crossed the room to where he was seated. Standing, they were the same height, but with him sitting down, she loomed over him like an impenetrable wall. “Is this how you’ve been spending your money? Just tossing it around. Like you’re just one of the other kids taking a gap year on their parent’s money?”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

She pulled a knife from a sheath on her hip and jammed it through the table, handle sticking up in the air.

He managed not to jerk at the move.

“I talked to Stuart,” she said calmly, “he said you were convinced that you would be fine on your own. That you thought you wouldn’t come running back like a coddled little child that got tired of their rebellious phase.”

“This isn’t a rebellious phase,” he said with as much conviction as he could manage.

“Then what is this? What is your long term plan? Do you plan on running back when you realize you can’t rough it on your own?” She gave a cruel laugh and squatted down until they were almost face to face. “I risked my life coming after you. In a few months, that man, is going to realize that I do not plan on coming back and he isn’t going to be too happy.”

His face twisted in revulsion. “What does it matter to you? You could have stayed. Why bother coming after me when you never cared about me to begin with.” He saw the first flash of real emotion in her eyes but she quickly swashed it down.

“I tried to protect you but he snatched you from me as soon as he could. You spent almost your entire life under his thumb. Every day he molded you into a photocopy of him. You still love him. You’re terrified of him but you love him. ”

“It’s not like that.”

“I married the man. I know better than you what he is capable of. He’s a manipulator.” She averted her gaze, her face suddenly appearing more lined with age. “He would made Romero kill her. She was barely a teenager. Then she ended up as another one of your father’s monsters anyway.”

“Lola isn’t–”

“She is. You may think of her as a sister but that doesn’t mean anything. I tried to save her and look where it got her.”

“You tried to control her. That doesn’t make you any better.”

She doesn’t deny the claim but her face draws tight. “She was young. I did what was best for her at the time.”

“You didn’t,” he said blandly trying to keep the sliver disgust out of his tone. “You could gotten me out of there sooner. Did you think of that?”

She let out a sharp huff. “You think this would have been better? Do you think you would have been any safer? You were a child then and you still are now.” She took a deep breath and steeled her expression and turned back to face him. “If you want to survive, you need to grow up. Be decisive. You either go back now or you learn to adapt and don’t look back. Pick one.”

“Mom,” he tried. She shook her head.

“You need to decide here and now, Abram. I can’t make that decision for you.”

**Baltimore, Maryland**

“I need a favor.”

“You ran out of favors years ago,” Stuart’s voice came through the speaker in a sharp hiss.

Stuart Hatford was a ruthlessly antagonistic on his best days and a complete bastard on his worst. There was a softness reserved only for his own blood but even that frayed around the edges when tested. Unfortunately, his nephew was on the end of his tether.

In terms of transatlantic trade, Stuart Hatford was primarily an arms dealer, working as a fence between Eastern Europe and the mid-Atlantic seaboard. While he did not transport cocaine, he had a fairly booming opioid trade, primarily dealing with heroin and varying forms of fentanyl. Stuart Hatford defended his former territory and trade route fiercely, mowing down competitor with a merciless efficiency. But with the death of his last living sibling, Stuart effectively iced out any organization that still had lingering ties to Nathan Wesninski.

“One favor.”

“I already told you, Nathaniel,” Stuart spat, “you’re out of favors. I should have sent you back when you crawled over here last time.”

“Uncle Stuart,” he lit a cigarette, flicked it away, and lit another but the smoke didn’t help clear his thoughts. “It’s one last favor.”

“What do want from me? Mary’s dead. She died protecting you because you couldn’t handle your responsibilities. And for what? For you to keep running away?”

“Are you saying you won’t help or are you stalling,” he asked resisting the urge to make his comment snappier than necessary.

“Do you listen to a single fuckin’ thing? I already said no.”

“I’m taking over Nathan’s territory,” he said ignoring his uncle.

“What territory?” Stuart said in a low voice. While his annoyance was cutting and expressive, in anger Uncle Stuart went quiet and cold. He stayed there with a flat icy tone and leveled look. He’d only experienced a glimpse of during his last days in England, but even with an entire ocean separating them, he could feel the chill.

“That son of a bitch is rotting in prison and his moron of a replacement has been up his own ass,” Stuart continued. “That cock-up has nothing to do with me. It’s been a long time coming and your father deserves it.”

“You’ve against mom marrying him from the beginning. You would have found a way to cut things off even if she hadn’t died.”

“You don’t know anything,” his uncle scoffed. “Mary’s contacts haven’t dried up. You could hire someone if you wanted Nathan gone, but instead, you’re talking to me. So tell me what you want Nathaniel.”

Neil wasn’t a good person. For all of his mistakes, he wasn’t a monster - shortsighted and selfish maybe, but never cruel. It was what separated him from his father. “If you keep your embargo going, then the business will go down,” Neil stamped out his last cigarette.

“I know that Nathaniel,” his uncle ground out. “Get to the point.”

“You struck a deal with the Wesninski office, not the main branch. The office is still under investigation but they don’t know about the main branch. If you keep things up, you’ll only draw more attention to yourself.”

“Huh,” Uncle Stuart let out a huff. “That’s interesting.”

“Dermott’s daughter is taking over. She has suppliers set up in South America coming in through Florida. Either your business will dry up too or Interpol will close in on you. You don’t have many friends left here.”

“What kind of connections did Mary leave you with?” Stuart sounded suspicious. “Don’t tell me you’re working with the feds.”

“You sound paranoid Uncle.”

“And you sound like a rat Nathaniel.”

“I wouldn’t rat out the only family I have remaining,” Neil said carefully. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You can keep your business, the main branch doesn’t go after you, and Nathan stays in jail with nothing.”

“Is that it?” Stuart let out a hollow laugh and Neil felt the sound settle deep in his bones. “And all I need to do is trust you?”

“It’s up to you.”

* * *

“How many favors did you cashed in this time?”

“Not that many.”

“Lucky bastard,” Lola took a sip of her iced coffee and gave him a critical once-over. “So you’re planning on playing the little lord?”

“I need to get your brother to quit,” Neil said, not answering her question. They were in public so he needed to chose his words carefully. He took a sip of his own coffee. Too bitter.

Lola stirring her drink with her straw. The ice had begun to melt but she still took another careful sip before speaking again. “He’s my brother. He’s helped me a lot more than you have. I almost lost my job because of you.”

“If it wasn’t for my mother, he would have had you fired before you even knew that there was a possible job opening.”

Lola scoffed. “He wouldn’t have let that happen.”

“Are you sure? Your brother really wanted that startup job. And now that my father is trying to work away from home, your brother is ignoring his requests and serving as head of the company. It’s what he’s always wanted. Almost like he was responsible for making sure Father wasn’t in a condition to work.”

“You know a lot for someone who just got back.”

“I keep in touch with my uncle.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, placing her empty cup on the table between them. It melted into more ice than coffee over the course of their conversation but the taste hadn’t seemed to bother her. “You want me help you talk to the main branch and get my brother kicked from his position.”

“My uncle offered to transfer some of his employees to work here temporarily. He was hoping my father wouldn’t file for divorce. But it happened anyway. Uncle Stuart willing to help me out if it means pissing off my father.”

“Lucky little brat,” Lola gave a dry laugh. She took another sip of her iced drink. “You have him wrapped around your thumb.”

“My mom does. He just puts up with me.”

“You were supposed to take over the business, but you ran from your responsibilities. How do I know you aren’t going to put the rest of us out of business?”

“I can’t promise that we won’t have any layoffs for executive positions. But some employees don’t know that we’re a branch of a larger company. They can’t afford to lose their jobs. I’ll make sure still get good recommendations to other firms outside the company.”

“So gracious of you,” Lola said drily.

“It’s the best we can do,” he set his own coffee down and gave her a sharp smile. “And if some people want to transfer the main branch, we’ll do our best to help them out.”

Lola’s face fell out of its careful composure and she sat back in her seat. “Our branch hasn’t been...as efficient since your father left. I doubt the main branch will want to employ anyone who’s been working for us.”

“You’re right. They don’t have openings for executive positions. But some lower level employees can still find jobs. Their transition won’t be much different from people leaving the company entirely,” Neil picked up his cup of coffee and mimicked Lola’s position.

“That sounds wonderful. But I’m not sure of my own future employment.” Lola tapped her fingers against side of her coffee cup. We’re going to lose our jobs anyway. It doesn’t matter if it’s you or my brother. What’s the point of helping you?”

“I’m sorry Lola,” Neil let his shoulders fall. “I thought you wouldn’t get fired if I didn’t tell you what was going on. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“Really,” she drawled, narrowing her eyes. “Your family tends to do that.”

“You’re family,” Lola rolled her eyes at him.

“Do you even know what that means?”

“We’re under review,” he pushed, ignoring her question. “We’re not officially affiliated with the main branch but with the way things are going, the review board is going to single them out too. And then everyone we’ve done business with. And everyone we’ve ever employed even if they weren’t involved in business deals. We can minimize that.”

“And you care?”

The hum of the coffee shop came back into focus. People sat in chairs and couches enjoying their drinks between quietly chatting and doing work. The baristas shouted orders at each other and the cashier repeated the same tired ‘have a nice day’ to each customer who stepped up. It was normal, real. Neil wasn’t used to it.

“I care more than Romero,” Neil straightened up again.

“I’ll get you a meeting with the executives of the main branch but I can’t help you with anything else. You don’t have to play mind games with me.”

“Lola-”

“Don’t make me any promises little Nate,” Neil flinched at the old nickname. Lola rose from her seat, leaving her empty cup on the table and leveling him with a harsh stare. “I’m helping you against my better judgment.”

“Thank you Lola,” Neil raised his cup to a final sip of his cold bitter coffee but he stopped midway and placed the cup back on the table. Lola’s shook her head, pulling her jacket tightly around her studying him carefully. Her face softened slight as she let out a small sigh.

“Sure thing kid.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A month? Has it been like....a month or so. Ummm. Wow. It's a longish chapter at least?
> 
> (Yup, that conversation happened before. Yup, Neil reeaalllly paraphrased it a lot. Yup, his memory isn't perfect. Yup, he's not the most reliable narrator.)
> 
> Say stuff at me. 
> 
> On tumblr @thepalmtoptiger


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